Another Twilight Story
by jades113
Summary: "Maybe I'd been subconsciously searching for someone to look at me that way my entire life. Or maybe somewhere in me, deep down, I knew that he was my soul mate. Was that what it was to be swept off your feet, to experience love at first sight?"
1. Newcomers

**Disclaimer: I own no characters except those I created, and yes, this story has some events which do follow those of Twilight; (hence my title, _Another_ Twilight Story) I don't really own the plot either. Hopefully I've changed it up enough to make it good! Please read and review! **

"First hour gym should be illegal," Brianee complained.

"Oh, I know. I mean, what's the point of even getting dressed at all in the morning when as soon as we get to school we have to change out of our clothes?" Nichole pouted.

"Or doing our hair and make-up, right?" Brianee asked sarcastically.

"Ugh. Right. If I expend the effort to complete these tasks, I have_ no intention_ of sweating my face off _or_ ruining my hair," Nichole agreed.

"So, what, you're saying that you are not going to sweat _once_ in an _entire_ semester of gym?"

I laughed at Brianee's dubious tone and Nichole's attempt at defiance. I secretly was sure that I'd love having gym first hour - It would leave me refreshed, wide awake and ready for my day.

Brianee, Nichole, and I had been best friends since we all had met in the fifth grade. I had just moved here and we were inseparable still, after all these years.

This morning we had arrived at school and hurried to our homerooms where we had received copies of our new year's schedule. We were all lucky enough to have first hour together, at least. Now we were in the girls' locker room, changing into our gym clothes.

I sighed. Senior year. How had it arrived so quickly? It seemed like only yesterday I had been a freshman auditioning for the drama club's One Act Play.

"Correct. I'm just not going to try hard enough in anything to sweat. I don't care about this stupid class or my grade in it. It will get me no where in life!"

"Somehow I don't think that hair and make-up were what Bri had in mind when she spoke of the class's potential illegality, Nikki," I cut in in a mock-snide tone.

Brianee smiled at me, "You're right. I _hate _anything athletic."

"Well I do too, when it messes with my beauty," Nichole retorted.

"Ooooooooh, you're precious beauty," I laughed.

"Yup. Gotta attract those guys." Nichole said teasingly with a flirty flip of her hair. She looked over her shoulder and stuck out and wiggled her hips in an attempt at sexiness.

"Yeah, yeah; whatever," Brianee rolled her eyes, clearly annoyed.

"So are you guys ready to _officially_ begin our first class of our senior year? Of our first last first-day class _ever_?" I grinned and leaned against the nearest lockers, waiting for them.

"Whatever. I can't believe we have to change on the first day of gym. Since when does that happen?" Brianee moaned.

"Since Ms. Laboreli became our gym teacher, I guess."

"Yeah. _Joy_," Nichole groaned.

"Alright, let's go," Brianee sighed.

I jumped up and led them through both of the locker room's sets of doors and into the gym.

Most of the class was already in the gym by the time we joined them.

"Alright class, I need to see what level you all are at, athletically speaking," Ms. Laboreli began once the throng was fully congregated, "You all have a free day today, to play or practice whatever. I don't really care, as it _is_ the first day of school. However, I need to test and record each of your body fat, age, weight, height, and a few other things. You will come and see me individually for this. We will start with Brianee Abbott."

"And now commences the torture," Brianee groaned as she left us.

I turned to Nichole, "So, whatcha wanna do?"

"How about just stand here? We're not being supervised."

"Ha-ha. Come on, let's run some laps."

Nichole rolled her eyes, "Uh... no. I'll suffer my grade. You go ahead."

I shrugged and started to walk toward the track when the movement of the gym doors opening caught my eye. I turned to look, subconsciously, I think. I stopped, and a small gasp escaped my lips. Two people were entering the gym. They were two of the best-looking people I'd ever seen, including actors on television.

The girl had long, blacker-than-black, straight hair. She was pale in the extreme, creating an almost-frightening contrast from from her hair. But the most frightening aspect of her appearance were her piercing, icy-green eyes. They screamed scrutinizing hostility. When she looked at me, I felt like she saw _into_ me; like she knew my every secret, every desire, every dream. And she scoffed at me for them. Her features were thin but sturdy; she had an amazing body, the kind that every girl on the planet would be willing to do anything for. She was inhumanly beautiful. She kinda creeped me out.

The boy was tall, very tall. He was as different in appearance than the girl as night is different from day; as heat is different from the cold. On his head was a mop of curly, bronze-colored hair. His skin was a beautiful, clear tan. At the moment it was a bit flushed, as if from excitement. His features were strong and hard, but his deep, warm brown eyes softened it and made it by far the most attractive face I'd ever seen. He was grinning, and his grin took my breath away.

When I was finally able to tear my eyes from his face - after all, staring was incredibly rude and I was still (in general) a polite person - I noticed that his arms were _very_ muscular - not to the point where of being disgusting or too much, but enough to push my heart rate into hyper-speed. I could see the contours of his chest muscles outlined in places where his loose shirt touched his skin. My gaze slipped back to the boy's perfect face.

I didn't understand for a moment; didn't see why these two movie stars were standing in our gym. They were perfect, even more perfect than models in magazines.

I took me a moment before I realized that I wasn't the only one unable to stop gawking at the two newcomers. Every head was turned; every face was staring; I swear I saw drool in the corner of some of my classmate's open mouths. If I hadn't been a part of the scene, I would have found it hysterically comical.

"_Who_ are _they_?" I asked Nichole quietly. Her father was the school administrator; Nichole must have known these two were coming. I turned to look at her when she didn't answer. Her face, like everyone else's, was staring in mute shock and adoration at the two strangers.

"Um," She breathed. She shook her head as if to clear it, and met my eye, "Oh. They must be the Black twins. They're... new. Obviously."

"Yeah... Wait. They're twins?"

"Yeah, I guess."

"They look nothing alike!"

"No shit. Must be fraternal."

"Apparently. What's the story?"

The Black twins had stopped walking and were gazing intently at each other's faces.

After a few minutes of staring, most of my fellow students had had the manners to appear to get over their initial shock and had returned to running laps, playing basketball, jumping rope, or volleying volleyballs, but there was a nonstop stream of glances shot at the mysterious duo.

"All I know is that they live with their cousins, Jacob and Renesme Black. They all just moved here... I had no idea..."

"Yeah, I know what you mean."

Black. Hmm. They were still looking intently into each other's eyes - it was almost as if they were having a silent conversation. I wondered what kind of people they were like under the impossible looks. What it was like to be them. If they liked being themselves.

Suddenly the girl's head spun around and her penetrating eyes met my own. The look she gave me was slightly smug and condescending, very hostile, and definitely scrutinizing. It took me aback - the way she hadn't searched the crowd or anything - she had instantly and confidently caught _my_ eye. Only mine. Why? Once again I was overcome with the feeling that she could see into the depths of my soul.

She definitely was smirking at me as she walked away from her brother and over to the athletic prep room where Ms. Laboreli was still observing the physical fitness levels of my various classmates.

Apparently the contents of my soul were smirk-worthy.

My gaze slid back to the boy - it really was involuntary, almost a necessity for me to look at him. He began to run around the gym. I figured that I'd take that as my cue to finally start running my own laps.

Even running quickly, I couldn't easily catch up to his apparently leisurely jog.

"Hey," I called to him when I was only about a foot behind.

He turned around and his wonderful eyes met mine. He grinned and again, my breath froze. I felt like stopping in my tracks and just standing there ogling at him for all eternity. Of course, I didn't. But it was _so hard _not to! He was so much more attractive up close! How was it _possible_ to be so hot?

Being an actress, I was good at masking my feelings. So, hard as it was, I didn't let my jaw drop or my eyes widen _or_ my feet stop.

"Hey. I'm Matt," he began, his grin widening even further and an incommunicably wonderful look came over his face. His voice! Ugh, _his voice_! It was indescribable! It was soft and velvety but low and gravely and masculine and - and so much more, all at the same time! I found myself losing my concentration; I was hopelessly lost in his voice.

I sped up only to gain about a foot on him.

But then suddenly his eyes widened and were overcome with a look of pure terror. Simultaneously, he stopped in his tracks, and flinched away from me. His whole body took on the manner of being horror-struck to the core.

I stopped too. My heart thudded almost painfully in my chest. What was wrong with him?

His horrified eyes met mine and the next instant he was gone - walking away so fast that if I hadn't seen him walking, I'd have sweared he was sprinting. Then he was through the gym doors and, (I couldn't help the thought) possibly out of my life forever. The way he'd looked at me - at first it had looked like friendly and open warmth, but the next second it had been overcome by that celestial look I mentioned before. I thought that it almost resembled... well, insane and unconditional love. But that was rediculous! He didn't even know me! And then to have that look disappear so fast, and to be replaced by one that made me feel like I was his own personal demon... I was so confused. And hurt.

**Author's Note: Yes, like I said above, their are some strikingly similar events in Twilight and my story. But there will be less! R&R! Por favor y gracias!**


	2. Absentee

His sister had come out of Ms. Laboreli's company just in time to see her brother's unexpected exit. She scanned the group of confused seniors nearest to me. A look of confusion and worry flashed across her face before it was replaced by the same one of indifferent hostility I'd seen before. Then she too was gone; she'd followed her brother out the doors.

I debated running after and catching up to the girl and demanding to know just why her brother had run out in a horror-stricken cloud of panic as he had. I couldn't get over the feeling that it had had something to do with me. But that concept was utterly preposterous. I was probably overreacting. Maybe he'd suddenly felt sick. Maybe he'd just remembered something incredibly important that demanded his immediate attention. Who knew? It couldn't _possibly_ be because of me. I didn't even _know_ him.

Regardless of the cause, _why_ did I care so much? I never care what people think of me. So why did I feel personally insulted?

I watched the gym doors swing shut after the girl's exit. It was probably my imagination, but I could have sworn the doors had a sort of air of finality about them as they swung shut at an abnormally slow speed.

Having both of the ineffable people out of the gym made the last fifteen minutes seem incredibly surreal; I almost expected to wake up at any moment from this weird dream.

I must have imagined the entire episode. I mean, how could two people_ possibly_ look that good? That was it; they simply _couldn't._ I must have at least exaggerated _that_ part in my memory, if not all of it. Maybe none of it had happened at all and I was just losing my mind - or was unknowingly on something.

I couldn't help but notice the panic that threatened to brew in my heart as these thoughts of finality and authenticity invaded my brain. And that scared me. I'd said one word to the guy - Hell, I wasn't even _sure_ if I'd said one word to the guy - and he was having this effect on me?

* * *

I couldn't stop thinking about him. All day, his face was predominant in my mind. I kept hoping to see him in another class - to obtain some form of proof that I hadn't contrived the whole thing - but my hope was wasted. I found myself mentally running over what I had _thought_ was my time with him again and again. I couldn't help but see his horror-stricken face everywhere.

I was pathetic.

I went through the rest of the day like a zombie - I barely realized when we switched classes and it wasn't until the end of the day that I finally realized - thus, getting my proof - that the entire school was and had been talking about this morning's proceedings and - of course - wanted to know what I'd said to make him leave like he had. Apparently I'd been ignoring them all day. So now I just told them all the truth: that I'd only said hello and had no idea why he'd run out.

Elma High School in Elma, Washington (about an hour from Seattle) has a total of about 500 kids. So it's not the biggest school, but it's not outrageously small either. You pretty much know all of your classmates and some of the other class's. Anyway, my point is that when I say everyone was talking about gym and the Blacks, I mean _everyone_. So not only could I not get away from him in my head, but I couldn't get away from him outside my head either. Brianee and Nichole weren't the only ones who couldn't utter a single sentence that wasn't Matthew Black-related. It was incredibly frustrating. I wanted to scream. Why was I so obsessed and drawn to him? It made no sense. I didn't know him. _I didn't know him._

I DIDN'T KNOW HIM!

I made myself repeat that over and over all day until finally - finally! - the tedious time period was over and I could leave the accursed building that was Elma High School!

At home I was no longer subject to the talk of my fellow inmates, but being home meant I was totally alone which in turn meant that I had more time to think about _Him_. My friends must have caught onto my mood that day because I didn't receive a single call or text to distract me. I had to resort to doing homework and then watching educational television in order to force my brain to think of other things.

They helped, but not much. Sleep was a relief; luckily I never remember my dreams.

Matthew Black was not in school on Tuesday. Or Wednesday. Or Thursday, or Friday! Each day was no better than its predecessors; sure, the talk about him lessened considerably, but I remained just as obsessed, just as tortured. Was it _possible_ that I was the reason he wasn't there? But no, that couldn't be. I was being stupid. He must have just suddenly felt sick... very sick, to be gone a week.

I found out on Tuesday that I was in four other classes with Lorraine Black, but I hadn't had the courage to approach her yet. It was weird; I'd never felt shy or weird about approaching anyone before. It was just that she seemed _so_ hostile. And her eyes were too invading for me - in fact, if I was being totally honest, I'd say that she kind of scared me.

Finally, in Chemistry on Friday, I ditched my former lab partner and plopped down in the empty seat next to Lorraine - the only empty seat in the classroom.

"Hey," I greeted her.

She didn't look up, but grunted dispiritedly in acknowledgment. I took that as an encouraging sign.

Though every guy in school agreed that Lorraine was - hands-down - the hottest girl in school, nobody had really gone up and talked to her. The few boys that were brave - or arrogant - enough to ignore her animosity were either taken or quickly discouraged by the then murderous glares and lack of positive response she gave each one of them.

I wondered why she didn't like any of them. She was probably just really stuck-up and thought she was way too good for them.

Admittedly, she _was_ too good-looking for all of them; even the one's I'd considered hot before looked stupid next to her.

Maybe she had a boyfriend.

At any rate, I was only hoping that she'd tell me where her brother was; I wasn't asking her on a date. Maybe she'd have a more open response to that. Yeah. Right.

I opened my mouth but before I could speak, she whipped her head up and around to meet my eye.

"I'm not telling you anything about my brother," she said matter-of-factly, her voice dripping in cynicism and scorn.

"W-what?" I asked, taken aback. She rolled her eyes.

"Do I _really_ look like I'm an idiot? The only reason any girl has talked to me is because they want to know where Matt is. And why he left." Her face reeked of contempt and condescension.

"That's not why I sat by you," I quickly lied. She smirked.

"I just wanted to say 'hi'."

"_Sure_ you did," she scorned, "I'm not stupid. And _you_ are a terrible liar."

That hurt. I'd always prided myself on my acting and lying abilities.

"Why are you so sure I'm lying?" I challenged.

"It's written across your face." But I knew that it didn't show at all on my face, that my expression hadn't changed. I raised an eyebrow.

"No it's not. And I'm_ not_ lying."

"_Yes_, you are. Just admit it. And then tell me why you think I should tell you about him."

"First of all, I'm _not_ going to admit it because it's not true. And secondly, if I_ had _wanted to know about him... I think I have a right to know, as I'm the one he was talking to when he rushed out."

"Ah, yes. Well, I think that that is the stupidest reason I've ever heard and I really hope you aren't dense enough to believe that that little comment of yours didn't give away your little facade and confirm what I already knew." Her voice was smug and snotty. Her gaze shifted back to the book on her desk and she let her hair fall over her shoulder, creating an ebony wall between us.

I knew that I had given myself away. But I really didn't care. I was intrigued by easily she saw through me, and I hated that she made me feel so - unoriginal. Like I was just one of many, many people and that my thoughts didn't matter, my life didn't matter. Because I was just one of millions exactly like me. Of course, I knew that to an extent, it was true. I also knew that the vast majority of the world really didn't care about me. But still, it bothered me that she felt the desire to point it out.

I wondered what made her so cynical and unfriendly. Most people in the world wanted friends, but she seemed to want enemies. And she was always glaring around her like she hated the world and everything in it...

I hoped she'd get over that. The world was such a beautiful place - I wished she'd see that. I know it's dumb, but every time someone thought of the world or things that I admired in a negative manner, it bugged me. One of my faults, I guess. I just really want people to see my side, to feel what I feel. I know; stupid. But maybe if she could see -

"You _are_ a strange one," she said suddenly. I was jolted out of my reverie to see that she was giving me the weirdest look.

"What?" I asked.

"Never mind. Well, most people would be thinking stupid things or thinking about what a bitch I am. You - " What did she mean, _most people would be_ thinking_ stupid thing_s? How would she know what they were thinking?

Her mouth twitched an imperceptible amount as she paused for a fraction of a second. But I noticed. And I also noticed her fists tighten. Why?

She continued her sentence smoothly, "- don't really seem to be thinking about that. You're just... sitting there. I know when people are thinking about me because they send glares in my direction."

There, again. It was almost as if she'd heard what I'd thought and wanted to clarify that she couldn't hear what I'd said before. But that was ridiculous.

Her jaw tightened.

She looked away.

How strange. I'll admit that I'm a dreamer, but I'm not a superstitious person; I don't actually believe that there are mind-readers out there. But it's kind of a cool thought to entertain. That there are people out there that can read minds. And then that thought makes you wonder what those people would think of you - of me. They would know your every thought and desire and hope and weakness and fault. If Lorraine had been able to read minds, she probably would have an even lower opinion of people than she already did. But then again, maybe it would have the opposite effect and make her more friendly because she'd be able to see the hidden goodness in people.

I shot a nonchalant glance at Lorraine to see her staring fixedly at an empty spot of desk.

It was preposterous to think that she could actually hear what I was thinking.

Maybe she had to be looking at people for it to work - maybe it was her eyes. Gah! I was being stupid. But still, I could experiment. On the 100% chance that I was wrong, nobody would know of my embarrassing idiocy - aside from myself.

That settled it.

_Lorraine._ I thought. I stared at her head, willing my thoughts to bore through her skull. _Okay, I'm going out on a limb here - really, I feel incredibly stupid - but, er, can you hear me?_

She didn't respond. Of course not. She couldn't read minds. I was letting my imagination get away from me - again. Wow, I was a pathetic loser.

My thoughts drifted away from Lorraine and back to Matthew. Ugh! I was so pathetically obsessed! _What_ was my problem? It wasn't just his looks either that prevented me from thinking of anything but him; there was something more, something that sort of, I don't know, intrigued me. Drew me to him.

Just then the bell rang and Lorraine jumped up and was out of the classroom before I'd had time to get out of my newest reverie.

The thought that she could read minds was by far the most ridiculous thought that had ever popped into my head.

**Author's Note: I got a comment on this - someone felt that Lorraine - being the daughter of Renesme - would have known better than to slip up like she had. I'd just like to point out that she_ is_ Jacob's daughter as well. Think of how many times Jake has said too much. Please review! I need feedback!**


	3. Conversation

Monday morning came too soon and not fast enough. I got to school early and entered the gym hoping (even knowing that it was probably futile) that Matthew would be at school.

I had come to the conclusion over the weekend that the reason I was so abnormally obsessed with him was because of the horrified look he'd given me as he'd left. If I could just find out why he'd left - which was undoubtedly a very reasonable and normal answer - this crazy fixation would end.

I was the only one in the gym, of course. Was I really so daft as to think - what - that he'd be there waiting for me? Ha! Besides, even if he was going to show up in school that day, I was way too early to find out.

With a sigh, I leaned against the folded-up bleachers and closed my eyes, the now-daily disappointment coursing through me. Of course he wouldn't be here today. I shouldn't have let my hopes up.

* * *

"Hey," murmured the most musical and masculine voice I'd ever heard, near my ear.

My eyes snapped open and I jumped in shock. There, less than a foot away, leaning towards me and gazing intently into my now wide-open eyes, stood Matthew Black. He was so much more gloriously _hot_ than I'd remembered; my breath caught in my throat, my heart thudded painfully against my ribs, and I would have liked nothing better than to stand there and ogle at him like an idiot for the rest of my pathetic life.

I quickly regained my composure.

Had I despaired of ever seeing him again? Certainly. Was I aware that my utter and probably unhealthy obsession with him was both abnormal and incredibly creepy? Yes. Did that knowledge stop me from instantly becoming both euphoric and feeling that everything was suddenly right in the world the instant I'd heard him speak? Of course not.

"I apologize," Matthew began, "I was incredibly rude last Monday. Unexpectedly and unexplainably running out and all."

His voice! It was so much better than I'd remembered. How was it humanly possible to look and sound that good?

But then I suddenly realized that (as if they weren't enough) it wasn't just his voice and looks that drew me in. There was something more - something that I had subconsciously noticed a week ago; something that had intrigued me; something which had kept him foremost in my thoughts. I couldn't really explain what this something was.

There was just some unexplainable pull I felt toward him. Maybe it was something in his eyes, something in the way he looked at me. Maybe there was just something in the way he carried himself: reserved, yet at the same time confident, smooth, and masculine. It couldn't have been his personality - I didn't know his personality. _I didn't know him_. Yet - I still wasn't quite sure what it was - but _something_ deep inside me - maybe instinct - was telling me that if I got to know him, I would fall deeply and hopelessly in love with him. And that scared me. It was in my nature to shy away from anything that had the potential to cause me pain. And this scenario was brimming with potential pain.

If I was completely honest with myself, I'd have to say that despite the amount of people that cared about me, I really didn't _love_ anyone. Not one person. If I let myself truly, deeply love someone, and then something happened to them - well - I already knew that pain. And I didn't want to experience it again.

So I don't let myself love anyone. I mean, I _like_ my friends and family. I'm very, very fond of them. I like them so much that yes, I would be hurt and depressed if something happened to any of them. I'd bawl my eyes out. But honestly, I don't truly _love_ them. Not to the point where it would cause me _physical_ pain if I were to be separated from them. I'd be crushed, yes, but it wouldn't kill me. The fact that every fiber in my being yearned to get to know and maybe even love this boy - that they were so ready to do so - absolutely chilled me to my core.

"I didn't even properly introduce myself," Matthew continued lightly; my revelation hadn't taken more than a few seconds, "So... Introducing Myself; Parte Dos:," he cleared his throat, "Hello. I am Matthew Black - or normally just Matt." His warm brown eyes sparkled.

"And I'm Paige," I replied, and half-smiled, "Paige Turner. My parents were musicians with a wry sense of humor."

He grinned, getting it.

"Really?" he asked. I couldn't help but grin back; Matt's smile was so radiant, it was contagious - in fact, it seemed to me to bear a striking resemblance to the sun.

No," I laughed, "My dad was a journalist and my mom was a high school drama director."

His eyes flickered with sudden curiosity.

"Were?" he asked, his voice soft, all traces of teasing instantly gone. I was slightly disconcerted by how quickly and drastically his demeanor had changed. Was it real, or was I only imagining the intensity I thought I was sensing behind his every word?

"Yeah. They died," I said swiftly and lightly, ignoring the deep sorrow threatening to pull on my heartstrings.

"I'm sorry," he said, and he sounded so sincere and sympathetic that he must have experienced the same. Hadn't Nichole said that him and his sister lived with their cousins? So his parents must have been dead too. He probably felt the same way as I did. Or maybe he had known and loved his parents longer than I had mine, and so his pain was even worse than mine.

"It was a long time ago," I reassured him, "I was only in fifth grade. I immediately moved in with my aunt and have lived here ever since."

"I see," he murmured.

"How did they die?" His voice was soft; his gaze was incredibly intense and gently penetrating almost as if he was trying to probe or glimpse into my soul. I instinctively recoiled from the imagined intrusion and looked away.

"Same way the majority of parent-less kids die, I'm sure," I chuckled bitterly, "Car crash. They went on a date for their 11th anniversary, leaving me behind with the babysitter. When the date was over, they began to drive home. They said the kid was a seventeen-year-old drunk driver. He was going 75 miles an hour in the wrong lane. My dad died instantly, the boy after a few hours, and my mom the next day."

I knew I sounded blunt and bitter, and I felt rude for it, but I really didn't care.

He was speechless for a minute.

"I'm so sorry," he repeated, and I could almost hear and see the concern seemingly resonating from the depths of his soul.

My heart ached for his pain - I didn't care about my own anymore. He must have been through hell, whatever had happened to him.

"Like I said, it was a long time ago. It's not like I'm the only orphan out there. Plus, I lead a pretty good life. I'm not complaining," I said, trying to lighten the mood, "So why did you run out last week? Your sister wouldn't tell me."

"You asked my sister?" he asked, slight humor creeping back into his expression.

"Yes. And she was no help at all," I mock-pouted, crossing my arms huffily.

"Yeah, she has a tendency to be rather hostile." His voice was back to its airy lilt, but his eyes maintained their intensity.

"I'll say," I laughed.

"Matthew Black, I presume." Ms Laboreli exclaimed from across the gym, catching sight of us. She had just walked in. I jumped. "Welcome back. We barely saw you last week. You have a _lot_ of catching up to do. Come with me, while we wait for your fellow classmates."

Matthew turned away from me and followed her. Did I imagine his reluctance?

I watched him travel his short jaunt to the prep room. He moved so - fast. It wasn't really _inhuman_, persay, but something about the way he moved just seemed - weird.

After he disappeared, I fell back against the bleachers again. Had I really just had the conversation I thought I had had, and with the intriguing and impossibly hot guy that I had come to suspect was a figment of my imagination?


	4. Time

"Paige!"

I jumped. Nichole had just entered the gym, closely followed by Brianee. Neither of them looked all-too-happy. Nichole continued quickly, as if she'd rehearsed exactly what she was going to say, "There you are! Okay, I know that you're still obsessing about that guy, and at first we didn't blame you. Even the second day, we understood and let you be, him being as hot as he is and having only talked to you before running off as he had. We understand that you are questioning your people skills and your ability to attract the opposite sex. But come _on_! He's a guy you don't even know! You've been moping around and barely talking to us, all lost in thought and depression. You're acting like - like you've just been cheated on by a guy you've been deeply in love with for years!" Here she leaned forward and spoke softer, with a tinge of sarcasm, "No offense, but it's p_a_th_e_tic."

Brianne cut in, "And then when we try to show you just how understanding we are and try to help you, you don't even really text us back! Now I see you don't even wait for us in the morning? What -"

But then her brain registered the slight smile that had lingered on my face since my conversation with Matt; the smile which Nichole had noticed a few seconds before.

I ignored their suddenly confused looks, "I'm sorry. You're guys are right."

"Why are you so happy?" Brianee demanded.

I shrugged, "Why not?"

Of course, that wasn't enough to satisfy them, and eventually I threw them a bone and told them that Matt was here today and had said 'hello' to me. Since I really didn't want to devulge back into the previous question or make the whole thing public knowledge, that was all that I told them. I realized that my story made me seem like fifty times more a pitiful failure than I had a few minutes ago, and so Nichole went back to scoffing at my patheticism. She was right to do so; _I _couldn't even get over how lame I was! Really, a guy _talks_ to me and it makes my freaking day? Since when was I such a loser?

Even worse, I realized that instead of lessening my obsession with him, our brief conversation had only strengthened it - I was burning with curiosity about him. How did he feel about his past? What _was _his past? Why was his sister so hostile - was it because of the loss of their parents? Did he like his sister? He seemed to tolerate her with good humor. What was his favorite movie? Did he like music? Did he play an instrament? Where did they live, anyway? Did - no. I forced myself to stop asking these internal questions. No!

I was turning into a stalker!

* * *

Matthew didn't enter the gym again that day. I hated how much disappointment I felt by that simple fact.

I developed and followed religiously a new routine for the rest of the day, and could scarcely concentrate on anything else; I would get to class early, and eagerly note everyone who came through door, letting my hopes up just a little each time. Hoping, of course, that Matthew Black would be the next being to pass through the wooden threshold. But my hopes were usually dashed; by the time I entered fifth-hour Chemistry and plopped down in the seat next to Lorraine, I had despaired of having any other classes with Matt.

I might have imagined it, but I could have sworn that Lorraine watched me out the corner of her eye (or at least was somehow observing me and my every move) for the entire class period, even though she didn't look me full in the face, catch my eye or speak to me once.

In eighth hour English, I got a pleasant surprise - Matt not only came into the class, but sat next to me, sending my effing heart into effing overdrive, which naturally upset and angered me.

He caught my eye and grinned, but since he had come in late, we weren't able to talk.

English is one of my best subjects. I love English. Usually. But that Monday I absolutely detested English. I didn't want to read and decipher poetry - I wanted to talk to the prominent boy in the next desk. But once again my desires remained unsatiated and I left school that day with only a _greeting_ and short conversation from Matt to cling to. '...to cling to'. Ugh.

What was happening to me? I was appalled and disgusted by the way I felt. Probably the best thing for me to do - the best thing for my sanity - would be to leave and never come back. In fact, that would also be the best thing for my future; my thoughts were always incoherent around him which wasn't really starting off the school year so grandly.

The real kicker was that it wasn't only that I _couldn't_ think, but that I didn't _want_ to think about anything but him when I was around him - or just in school. I was pretty sure that I wasn't the only girl in school who felt the way I did, but it seemed unlikely that even the loneliest girl in school felt it to the degree I did. I was not usually such a loser.

WHY DID I FEEL SO STRONGLY ABOUT HIM?

I didn't _know_ him! I may have desperately wanted to and hopelessly needed not to, but I _didn't_!

* * *

Days turned into weeks, the weeks into months. Neither Matthew nor I missed a day of school. I developed an abhorrence for weekends.

Gym quickly became my favorite subject. Matthew Black and I were badminton partners and we dominated. We won every single game - he was a great player, and I was average, which worked.

Yes, he asked me to be his partner. Yes, part of the reason we almost lost a few games was because I couldn't stop looking and concentrating on Matthew, rather than the game. And yes, we talked. We talked between badmiton games and before class started. We talked before English started too, whenever he was there early. (I always was.) He never talked to me outside of these two times a day - not at lunch, in the hallways, at break, or after school. So I had to satisfy myself with living for the first and last hours of the day.

I had come to accept my patheticism - or at least, I just stopped caring about it.

We talked about everything - from the teaching style of Mr. Brown to world affairs, and everything in between. We talked about philosophy and habits and mythology and, literally, _everything._

He was always asking questions about me; my hobbies, my achievements, my life, my feelings, my family, and just about everything else - he asked me things that I wanted to know about him. I had no idea why my boring life would be at all interesting to him, so he was probably just being polite in asking the questions.

When I asked Matthew questions about himeslf, he seemed extremely hesitant to answer them. I think he answered honestly when I asked about his dislikes and likes, the way he felt about some things and such, but about his life and his past, he was totally taciturn. And when he did say something, he skimmed over it or looked guilty. I had no idea why - it didn't really seem that it caused him pain, only that he was hiding something and felt guilty about hiding it, maybe. That guiltly look, of course, only increased my feeling of intrigue.

"You and Lorraine live with your cousins, right?" I asked him one day.

"Yep. And you live with your aunt Brenda," he replied, stating rather than asking, thus closing the subject.

I always felt just a little bit snubbed when we talked about him - and also left me a little miffed. I mean, he could ask me all these questions about myself, but I couldn't ask him any about himself?

So I had to settle for learning him based on his short replies - but mostly through our conversations about everything else. I learned his every look - I knew when he was joking, hiding something, teasing, sad, frustrated - his face was pretty easy to read. Especially because I learned it so well. Usually he tried to keep his emotions hidden, but futiley. And I loved that about him.

My feelings for him only grew over time and, had I not known better, I'd have said that I was well on the road to falling in love with him. The true, real love in stories and movies, not the kind that every teenager thinks they've experienced. And I hadn't gotten over how much that scared me.

But of course, I didn't fall in love. Period. It wasn't something I did. I didn't let myself love _anybody_. There was _no way _I could love this boy - and we weren't even dating, anyhow. We were just friends. He only saw me as a friend. If that. He probably just saw me as an acquaintence.

I continued to ditch my other friends in gym. They weren't happy, but they got me all the rest of the day (except Chemistry and English) so they didn't complain too much. Plus, I was back to being my spunky, dramatic self - except maybe a bit happier than I had been before.

I tried to talk to Lorraine a few more times but was met with the same hostility as before. So I gave up on even achieving a nice acquaintenceship with her.

And Matthew and I talked continued to talk in gym, and for a few minutes before English.

He still never asked me on a date, or to hang out outside of our two mutual classes.

Part of me was immensly chagrined by this, but another part of me was very relieved. If he asked me on a date, I would undoubtedly say yes. And, as I have made quite clear, that would scare me - I was already in too deep with him.

Even now;

I was terrified of my feelings for him.


	5. Begining of Gym

**Author's Note: There is no excuse for how long I've taken to update, (and I feel really bad) but I'm going to try and give you one anyway.. like, the fact that I am SO BUSY! AH! And whenever I have a spare five minutes I've been working on rewriting this story, bit by bit. So if you want, you can go back and read it again, I've just added a lot more detail and stuff - really the only big thing I've changed is that instead of Paige moving when she's in third grade, I made it fifth. Thanks for your patience! **

"Hey," Matthew greeted me and, as always, fell into step next to me the second I walked into the gym.

"Hi," I answered, grinning back at him, "So what shall we talk about this morning?"

"I have no idea. Why don't you choose?"

"Hmm, that's a new one," I said, "Okay. Mmmm... Do you have any siblings other than Lorraine?"

He grinned.

"Nope. She's the only one."

I put on a look of mock-shocked and sorrow.

"I'm sorry."

He laughed, and his warm brown eyes smoldered.

"She's much more - well - she's not as nasty once you get to know her."

I shot him a dubious look.

"How about you?" he asked, moving the subject away from Lorraine.

"How about me what?"

"Do _you_ have any other siblings? It honestly never occurred to me that you could have."

"Oh? And why not? Because for your information, I just so happen to."

His eyebrows rose; obviously he had been expecting the answer to be the opposite.

"Oh. I guess you seemed to imply that you live alone other than with your aunt or for some reason I assumed..."

"I do only live with my aunt. My brother lives with my grandparents in Wisconsin."

"Ah. I had no idea."

"Obviously not." I sighed, "Well, we should probably start warming up."

"Yeah. I'll get the volleyball."

He was only gone for a scarce few seconds before he was back at my side, volleyball in hand.

"So, how old is your brother?" he asked, setting me the ball.

"Almost sixteen," I answered, bumping it back to him.

"When was the last time you saw him?" He set it to me again.

"This last summer," I spiked the ball, hard and fast, at him. He casually got under it and bumped it back to me, as if I'd just tossed it to him in slow motion. His athletic skills were another thing about him that never ceased to amaze me. He was too perfect to be real.

"Can we change the subject?" I asked, setting it lightly back.

"Of course, if you want," He caught the ball.

"Here, hit one to me, really hard," I invited.

"Really hard?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Yup. Your hardest."

He tossed the ball into the air and on its way down, he spiked it to me, very hard and very fast.

I got under it, sort of, but the ball hit my fist and ricocheted high and sideways, flying through the air, bouncing off the wall, and disappearing under the bleachers. My hands smarted.

The other two seniors in the gym (who had also been warming up) stopped mid-play and stared. I felt like doing the same. Nobody I knew could hit that hard.

"Wow," I said, laughing to hide my shock, "That was definitely a hard hit."

He looked mortified, "I'm so sorry. I'll go get the ball," he turned and I interrupted him, "No. I want to get it. And why are you apologizing? I asked you to hit your hardest, and you did, and so _thank you_."

He bit his lip and looked like he wanted to say something else, but didn't.

I marched determinedly towards the bleachers.

The reason I wanted to go get the ball? I didn't want Matt to see my face.

I let it express the suppressed freak-out once my back was to him. Gah! My hand was stinging and I couldn't get over the fact that when he had hit that he had made it look like he hadn't expended any effort at all, not that it was his hardest. Was it possible that he could hit even harder? Maybe he was on steroids...

I put on a mask of indifference and turned to look at him one more time before ducking under the bleachers. He had his back to be, but his body language told me that he was beating himself up internally.

I sighed, and pulled back and ducked under the tarp hanging on the side of the bleachers. I had to hurry and get the ball before Ms. Laboreli got there, or I'd get in trouble.

Students in Elma High School are not allowed to go under the bleachers in either of the gyms. That is because staff feel like students could do anything under there - have sex, do crack, whatever. Anyway, we weren't allowed. The bleachers in the little gym (which was where my gym class was held) were old and rickety, and students especially weren't allowed under them, as they were sort of unsafe and so were never even used - games and athletic events were in the other gym.

They were wobbling over me precariously as I walked deeper into them. I looked for the ball, but the lighting was very dim and I couldn't see it. I walked farther, and for the first time, I was a little freaked out by just how unsteady the ancient structure was.

I was probably in the middle of the gym and the middle of the bleachers when I found the ball stuck in a little niche on the gym side. I crawled over a bar and reached for it. It was stuck tight - damn_(!)_; I still couldn't believe just how hard he'd hit that ball.

I pulled harder and it came out. Then I heard the thud of another volleyball slamming into the bleachers a few feet away from me.

Everything happened surreally fast after that. It was as if everything was happening in super fast slow motion.

I heard a groan and the bleachers seemed to - lean in towards me. I realized what was happening and desperately looked to the dim lights at either end of the bleacher-tunnel. The way on both sides was clear of all living creatures and cluttered with bars across the floor, hindering any possible escape attempt. Not that getting to an exit was a feasible option anyway; both exits were way too far for me to get to.

My heart thudded. Part of me was already recoiling from the anticipated blow. Instinctively, I threw my hands up to cover as much as my head and neck as I could and I started to curl up into a defensive ball.

Time seemed to be pass unbearably slowly, yet all too fast.

All this happened within a second; it was as if my brain capacity had expanded and could think and react to different things at once.

But then something hit me. Not hard - but a brownish blur was suddenly overtaking me; two strong, impossibly hot arms materialized, encasing me, holding my face against a hot, muscular chest.

Suddenly, my dire situation didn't seem so perilous. Every fear I'd ever had - every worry, every discomfort, all the pain - seemed to just melt away in that instant. For the first time in as long as I could remember I felt totally and completely, utterly, safe.

**Author's Note: Sorry for the short length and sorry again for the very long update lag! Please, please review, and remember to reread if you have the time! Thanks so much again, for your patience!**


	6. Trapped

I dimly realized that I was tipping over backwards - very, very fast, yet apparently very, very slowly; it seemed like we were moving in stages, and the stages were timed to my super slow heard rate.

I craned my head back and around to see the bleacher-ceiling only a foot away from slamming into my savior's back.

It was the weirdest thing - we were falling at a rate equal to (or slightly faster) than that of the bleachers' fall. For the duration of our entire agonizingly long trip to the floor, I watched the structure remain at the same distance away. I watched as dust and wood particles slowly, slowly filtrated the air.

I stopped breathing.

Finally, finally, we reached the ground. I felt the hot arms slide out from under me, laying me ever-so-gently on the wooden floor. The hands braced themselves against the solid ground on either side of my arms, and the feet below mine. In push-up fashion, the elbows bent and the muscular chest came closer and closer to my face again, until it was only a scarce inch away.

I looked up to see the bottom corner of a perfect, chiseled chin. I knew that chin. Matt.

Before I had time to form another coherent thought, time seemed to catch up with my brain, and we were hit.

I tried, even knowing it was too late, to brace myself for the slam of Matthew's body onto my own as I heard the tremendous rumble and slam of hundreds of pounds of wood and metal hitting him.

It never came. I squinted, trying to see through the now-clogged-with-dust air.

I heard the wood and metal hitting the ground on either side of me. I could make out pieces giant shapes sliding and bouncing off of Matthew out of the corner of my eye. But I must have been hallucinating, or maybe the dust just made everything look weird - there was no way the tremedous weight over us would just bounce off of him. But then, why weren't we both being crushed? I could hear all-too-well, the overwhelmingly loud crashing and banging which meant the structure was hitting _something_. It wasn't possible that merely luck prevented anything from falling directly on us. And how was Matthew here, anyway? He had been in the middle of the gym seconds ago - and even if he had been close to the entrance, I had looked both ways and he was nowhere near. Then a second later he was? Impossible. I _must_ have been dreaming the whole day. How else was any of this explainable?

Finally, finally, after - well, it could have been seconds, or minutes, or hours, or even _days_ for all I knew - of falling and crashing - with the bleachers' last, desperate, dying groan; everything ceased. The boards and bars settled around and on top of us.

Everything was eerily silent. I swear I could hear the floating dust, the only thing still hanging, suspended in the air.

Then the noise commenced.

I heard muffled and rapid talking. For me to be able to hear it whilst under so much meant that it must have been spoken much louder than the usual. It was too muffled to make out any individual words, but it the tenor of the conversation seemed panicked.

Then I realized that I was hearing a lot of voices, rather than just one.

"Shit," I heard, soft and low and fast above me.

I opened my mouth and inhaled, only to feel dust instantly filling my mouth, clogging and coating my throat, making breathing impossible.

I started coughing uncontrollably; gasping for breath only to instantly expel it.

I started to wheeze.

"Fuck," I heard, once again, above me. Then he was looking down at me. His arms straitened and his body rose up, away from me, so fast I almost missed it.

The dust had more room to move around in then, and while it was still thick in the air, it was a little easier to breath.

I was reduced to just coughing.

"Breathe through your shirt," I was instructed. So I lifted the collar of my shirt up, over my mouth and nose, and breathed. It worked; I could breathe again and it wasn't accompanied by coughing. Why hadn't I thought to do that on my own?

"Thanks," I told him grudgingly. He grunted in acknowledgement.

"Curl up in a ball for a minute, okay?" He asked. I did so without even thinking about it. But I still watched.

Then his arms left the floor completely and he kneeled, leaning over, his body at an impossible angle that still provided a shelter for me.

I don't think he knew I was watching, but his hands flew around at a blindingly and impossibly fast speed. They moved beams of wood and bar around, propping some up against others - I wasn't really sure what all he did, but the wooded ceiling above us barely moved the entire time.

Then he was done. He moved out from above me and half-lay, half-crouched by my side instead.

Instinctively I recoiled and braced myself, once again, for my crushing death - but, again, it never came.

I sat up a bit, tentatively.

Apparently Matt had constructed a sort of fort out of the ancient structure's remains - we were in a small space; about two feet high and a good four feet across. It looked so natural; it almost looked as if we had been the luckiest two people alive, and that something - some bar or whatever - had prevented anything from falling on us.

If I hadn't seen all that I'd seen, I'd have believed it myself.

I met his eye. His gaze held anger and concern - it was extremely tense, but held no fear.

My mind was numb and completey stunned. It was as if it was completely refusing to acknowledge or think about what it had seen. It was in complete and utter denial.

I didn't blame it.

"I -" I started, my shirt still over half my face.

Matthew shook his head and gave me a look that told me that he wasn't planning on talking.

I scowled, anger rising within me, shooing away the numbness.

"So, what, you think you don't have to explain anything?" I growled.

"I don't," he growled in reply. I was taked aback by the hostility and anger in his tone and voice. I'd never seen anything like it him before. He was acting even more hostile that Lorraine.

But then I got over it, and just got madder.

"_Oh?_ And just why is that?" I asked, trying to sound casual.

"I saved your life. Since when does that require explanation?"

"Since _now_," I announced angrily, all attempts at feigned casualty melting away.

"Too bad."

"Oh-_ho_?"

"Just drop it."

"I _won't_."

"You're so - _stubborn_! Why can't you just be grateful?" he spat.

"I am grateful. But that still -"

"Than why can't that be enough?" he interrupted me.

He did save my life. Maybe I _did_ owe him a bit of privacy. But he still owed me an explanation.

"Fine. Whatever. I'll let it go - _for now_. But this isn't the end of it, you know."

"Why was I afraid of that?" He murmured.

And so we waited in silence.

Occasionaly, we'd hear the muffled sounds of outside voices. We listened to them swell up and down in volume; once they got so loud and panicked, I could actually pick out a few syllables, but still not a full word.

Usually we couldn't hear anything.

And so we continued to wait in silence; me not even looking at Matt.

Meanwhile, my mind was reeling. I mentally replayed what had just happened a thousand times, trying to come up with a reasonable explanation. I couldn't find one.

By the time we heard the wood and metal starting to be removed, slowly, around us, I had come to a conclusion. Impossible as it sounded, as unbelievable as it was, I knew for a fact, one thing.

Matthew was not human.


	7. Musings

**Author's Note: First of all, I would really like to thank all my reviewers for your positive feedback! So thanks! It's really very encouraging. And I'd also like to thank all you faithful readers who have had patience with my very slow rate of updating. So thanks to you too! **

**Please continue to review, and please pick out things I can improve upon as well. Have any of you (Who read it originally) reread the first chapters after my rewriting? What did you think? Okay, well anyway here's my next chapter - enjoy!:**

We listened to the sound of people penetrating our wall. It would take awhile for them to find us - they were much too far to the right of us.

We continued to wait in silence.

I continued to think over my newest revelation.

Every now and then I'd sneak a glance out of the corner of my eye and study him.

Everything in me was denying the fact that Matthew wasn't human and trying to come up with some other explanation for everything I'd witnessed this day - I was not superstitious by nature, I didn't believe in monsters and wizards and superheroes and vampires and stuff. It was all rediculous folklore, made up to explain the unexplainable. Or just made up by people with vivid imaginations.

Still. There was no way a normal human being could have accomplished all that Matthew had accomplished today. Hell, there was no way a human on _steriods_ could have done it all. Could have _survived_ it all.

I studied him again. He appeared totally and completely fine; not a bruise, a scrape, or any form of injury-evidence was to be seen on him. Yet I had heard and seen hundreds, if not thousands of pounds of wood and metal slamming into him. And he was completely unscathed. Which meant that either I was absolutely crazy or he was not human. As far as I knew, I wasn't crazy.

And further proof that I was not crazy was that I hadn't been the only one to see Matthew hit the volleyball so very impossibly hard - inhumanely hard.

And I was definitely buried under the collapsed bleachers.

And Matthew was definitely beside me - I could feel his body heat emanating from him. His body heat... A thought suddenly occured to me. When I had touched Matthew, when he'd been suspended over me as my shield, I had felt the same heat, so hot, flowing from his body to mine. It was impossibly hot.

So, then, was his body temperature abnormality a clue to what sort of being he was? I mean, if he wasn't human, he had to be_ something_, right? I was forced into thinking about all the mythical creatures I'd ever heard of. Maybe, just maybe, some of them did exist.

But that was preposterous. I was being rediculous. It was like the mind-reader thing again; I was too much a dreamer, too willing to hope that the romantacism of secret creatures or powers existed.

Yet I still could not deny what I had experienced.

So then, what could he be?

"You can't tell anyone," I heard. I jumped; Matthew's voice jolting me out of my thoughts.

"Hmm?" I asked.

"You can't tell anyone what you saw."

The anger flared up again.

"Oh?" I asked angrily, not bothering to keep my feelings from him, "And why not?"

He shot me a dubious look, as if doubting my intelligence level.

"I mean," I continued, "Why should I not tell everyone exactly what happened? Are you going to explain to me just -"

"No," he cut in curtly.

"Well. I don't see why I should do you any favors then."

"So saving your life doesn't count as favor enough?"

I sighed, forcing the anger out of me.

I was so confused and flabbergasted and hurt that he wouldn't trust me and defensive and astounded and curious - and when all those emotions mixed, it came out as anger, I guess.

"I'm sorry. Thank you. I'm just - sorry."

He shrugged.

"You know, even if you told, that nobody would believe you, right?" he asked, "It would be my word against yours. I can be convincing, and my story would make sense. Yours would make you out to be completely crazy."

"Really?" I asked sarcastically, "I'm really very surprised that you haven't made the connection yet; you should have figured out by now that I don't really give a damn what people think about me. I'd go ahead with my story."

Of course I was bluffing.

"Well I suppose it could be ruled out as brain damage - you did hit your head after all..."

"What are you talking about? I never hit my head, and any doctor could prove that."

"Could they?" And suddenly I noticed a malicious and frightening gleam in his eye.

Despite my anger and stubborness, despite the fact that awhile ago, whilst in his arms, I'd felt the safest I'd ever felt - I could help my pulse from quickening in fear.

But I absolutely_ refused_ to let him see that even a part of me was even remotely frightened of him.

"You wouldn't," I informed him.

He chuckled bitterly.

"Let's not see what I would or wouldn't do, hmm?"

I was instantly angry again.

"And just what gives you the right to threaten me, huh? I -"

"Paige," he murmured, his voice soft and desperate, his expression suddenly mirroring his tone.

His emotions and feelings seemed to be changing even more rapidly than my own - it was dizzying.

"Paige. _Please_, Paige. Please."

My resolve faded again. It was infuriating.

"Fine," I grumbled, "I won't tell anyone. Though I don't see why it matters, since, as you said, everyone would only think I'm crazy,"

I wasn't ever going to tell anybody anything, anyway. I just wanted to see if I could get him to explain.

"Just a precaution," He informed me, and I watched as his whole body, starting with his face, relaxed.

"And," he continued, "Now that that's settled... you should probably yell or something."

"_What_?" I asked, totally confused.

"Well, don't you want to get out of here? They probably figure we're either dead or unconcious - after all, most people - had they been in as pristine shape as we are - would have started screaming and yelling for help right away. We really haven't made a peep."

"True enough," I agreed.

"So, why is that?" He leaned closer to me, his now-intense stare burning into my own.

"Why is what?"

"Why is it that you didn't start yelling for help right away? "

I shrugged.

"Well," I said, "I think you should be the one who calls to our rescue posse."

He pretended to consider before answering me, "Mmm... nope. That little duty is all yours."

"Why?" I asked.

"Well, quite frankly, I don't particularly want to leave this little cave at the moment."

I looked away.

"HEY!" I shouted at the top of my lungs.

I was instantly rewared with the sounds of muffled and joyous yelling. They had found us!


	8. Research

**Author's Note: Thanks so much to all my readers! And also, to my wonderful reviewers; (I forgot to before, so I'm doing it now) thanks SO MUCH for the collapsing bleachers idea! And also, thanks for the positive feedback! And I promise, reasons and mysteries will be explained in the future! I'm just not sure if I want all of it explained, or if I'll do a sequel once I get done and so wait and reveal more later... Thoughts on this? I know it's a bit early, but would you consider reading a sequel or not?**

I turned the computer on and started twisting my chair while I waited for the machine to boot up. I was sitting at the desk which held our only computer, in the back of the modest living room.

It had been two days since the bleacher incident.

It had taken awhile before they'd finally gotten to us and gotten us out. They were shocked to see that neither of us were in any way harmed; they saw the little 'fort' Matt had made; believed and saw the truth in his bogus story about how we had been so unbelievably lucky that a certain beam of metal had just _happened_ to fall _exactly_ in a way to protect us from harm. At we didn't have to go to the hospital or anything. Instead we were each awarded a full week's detention. A picture of us snapped by an expectant photographer was featured in the local newspaper and mentioned in the local news. We'd become famous as The Luckiest People Alive.

I sighed and found my copy of the paper.

I looked at the image of myself, staring back at me. The picture was embarrassing - my hair and clothes were askew and caked with dust and grime, and my expression was one of almost comical shock - but hey, neither one of us had been prepared to get our picture taken. But the most embarrassing part of the image was that under the shock, if you looked closely enough, my face revealed the lingering shadow of intrigue and the deep calmness I felt whilst ever in the presense of Matthew. Ugh.

My gaze slid over to the image of Matt. Still, after seeing it so many times, after seeing him in person - it took my breath away.

A light layer of dust and soot was sprinkled over his skin in such a perfect manner, it looked as if it had been planted there purposely. His bronze curls, rather than lying in their usual mop-fashion, was a tousled lighter red. His shirt was torn and bits of tan, toned muscled were to be seen in a few dust and shirt-free places. His expression was bitter and dark, his eyes glaring. It displayed mostly anger, but slight surprise and also, if I wasn't mistaken, a little fear. Had he been afraid I'd tell what had really happened? Did he really have so little faith in me?

We were standing apart; his body language made it seem as if we were either barely acquainted or total strangers.

I sighed again.

Ever since the slightly-traumatic episode, Matt hadn't been himself. Even though we were still gym partners, he was utterly silent. Whenever I tried talking to him, he would only grunt or nod or shrug; he never said more than two words to me at a time.

I was convinced that this was because of whatever gave him the ability to re-materialize and be indestructible.

So I was on a mission - I was going to find out what exactly he was.

I pulled up the internet on the now-turned-on computer and Googled _Super Strength and Indestructibility_.

I skimmed through lists of pages advertising Super Strength Dog Toys and Indestructible Eggs and quickly became impatient. So I tried again, with _Mythical beings and their traits_. After skimming through sites about Dragons, Phoenixes, and other monsters, I came across a potentially helpful site. On it was a list of every mythical creature known throughout history, organized into categories.

I was pretty sure he wasn't an elf or a fairy. I laughed aloud at the thought.

Zombie was out; I was very sure that he wasn't a decaying corpse.

Vampire was out; vampire were pale and couldn't come out in the daytime, but Matt was dark and tan, and I'd only ever seen him in the daytime. Plus he was around people all the time, and as far as I knew, he hadn't tried to kill them at all.

Wizard and werewolf were out; even if Matt was some sort of mythical creature, these two were the most rediculous to believe of them all.

Centaur and Giant were out, with no explanation needed.

Then I saw 'alien', 'demigod', and 'star people'. I thought about movies like _Race to Witch Mountain_,_ Percy Jackson and the Olympians_, and _Stardust_. Was it possible that he was either one of them? They would make sense...

I felt absolutely rediculous for considering these things. I didn't believe in such nonsense. But then, what other explanation was there?

I would keep the three possibilities in mind.

I sighed in frustration, turned the computer off, and flopped onto my bed.

My thoughts were soley of Matthew Black.

**Author's Note: Okay, I know this chapter is outrageously short, but before I write/decide any more, I need answers to the questions in my AN above. Would you read a sequel?**


	9. Date

**Author's Note: Okay, thanks to all of my reviewers, once again! I'm glad to hear you would read a sequel so I've made up my mind and can continue with my story. I hope I have compensated my time-lapse with this hopefully-long-enough chapter. (This is undoubtedly the longest chapter yet. By far.)  
**

After about two weeks of the same - that is, my not finding out anything about what Matt was, even through carefully casual observation and him not making any more progress in speaking to me - I decided that enough was enough. I needed to talk to him. I _hated_ not talking to him.

So I caught up with him in gym, and fell into step right behind him as he walked across the overlarge room.

He immediately stopped walking and spun around to face me, catching me off guard. I, of course, stopped as well and met his eye. At first I thought he looked annoyed, but his annoyance was either quickly diminished or covered up by some other, more powerful and tender emotion.

"Paige," he started hesitantly. He didn't continue. I could read extreme reluctance on his face, causing my curiosity level and feeling of intrigue to increase. Maybe I would just let him talk first instead of starting off in my ingeniously-thought-out and furious telling-off; I'd listen to what he had to say first. Okay, well, I actually didn't have a plan as to what I was going to say to him other than just winging it, but that only made me want to let him go first more.

"Yeah?" I prompted, letting the slightest bit of aggresion and anger enter my tone while keeping my face cool and indifferent.

"Well, I was just wondering."

He sighed, hesitating again, "Would you... you know. Ugh," He groaned, "Where do you like to go to eat?"

I was completely taken aback and immediately squashed down suppressed thoughts and hopes threatening to surface...

"Uh..." I dared not hope what I my now-racing heart was hoping he meant - "Well, my favorite is definitely Dairy Freeze. It's got this cool fifties theme and-"

"Okay," he interrupted me, "Will you show me it? Tonight?"

I was shocked, and couldn't help it from showing on my face for a split second. Three weeks ago, he'd have teased me for how surprised I appeared, but now his look of intense concentration didn't so much as flicker humorously.

"Um. Sure," I answered breathlessly. But I needed to clarify one fact; "But like - a date?" I asked tentatively.

"No," he cut in quickly, panic gripping his features and body language, "Not a date. Just two - er - friends - having dinner."

Disappointment mixed with hope that he had decided to be my friend again, elation that he was asking me to go somewhere with him outside of school, and the old anger at myself for the feelings he aroused in me; for feeling so ready to let him take control of the situation - flared up in me; creating internal chaos and turmoil and making it very difficult for me to say or do anything other than to just stand there stupidly, with a blank expression on my face.

"Well?" he asked after a moment.

"Oh," I answered, emerging from my internal disarray, "Oh. Yeah, okay."

"Alright. Meet me there - what time?"

I ignored my feelings. I ignored my thoughts. They all just needed to _shut up_.

"Um, I don't know."

"Okay. Then how about seven o'clock?"

"Alright." I waited, but he said no more; merely nodded, turned away, and started running laps.

I stood there still, allowing some of my emotions to leak out of my tightly controlled heart and set me into a state of utter bedlam once again.

* * *

"Hey, could you do me a favor?" I asked the Dairy Freeze employee behind the counter.

"Hmm?"

"Well, I'm waiting for someone - and when they come in, could you direct them to my table?"

"Sure. Why not? What they look like?" she asked, looking bored.

I smiled, "Well, okay, let me rephrase my question. When the hottest guy you've ever seen comes through those doors, send him to my table."

"The hottest guy I've ever seen?" she asked dubiously, smirking at me, "_Well_. So specific. I guess I'll know exactly who you mean then."

I laughed, and not able to entirely supress a smirk, replied, "Yes. You will. Really, you will. But just to clarify, he has bronze curly hair, he's tall, he's muscular, and he's tan. And you really won't even need to know that stuff to know who I'm talking about." My smirk became more pronounced.

She raised an eyebrow.

"Whatever."

"Thanks!" I said, overly cheerful, and I made my way over to and sat down in the most secluded empty booth I could find, and waited.

I was about fifteen minutes early - which just showed the lack of social life life I led since meeting Matt.

After about a minute, worries, concerns, and doubts wormed there way into my brain. I was slightly worried that he would stand me up; after all, he hadn't talked to me anymore in gym today and then he hadn't even showed up for English at all.

I doubted this was some cruel joke - that situation didn't fit Matthew. I also doubted that he would stand me up out of spite. But maybe he would if it would get me to leave him alone. Maybe that was his plan.

I sighed and reminded myself once again of just how pathetic I was.

Three weeks ago, I would have been ecstatic about this meeting - and I would have had no doubts about anything in my mind.

But now I was obsessed with knowing why _exactly_ Matt had invited me here - as "two friends having dinner".

Had he been hesitant and so ready to deny the date-state of this meeting because he didn't want to rush me? Because he was nervous and liked me and didn't want to blow his chance?

Not likely; I felt ridiculous for even considering that. He was so out-of-my-league. Which was saying something, as I usually considered all the "league" crap to be just that - crap.

So maybe it was the standing-up-thing again. He had it planned, he wanted me to leave him alone. But then when I asked if it was a date, he'd said no because he'd felt bad and didn't want to make it harder for me.

Or maybe he wanted to discuss what type of being he was. In which case, I'd be euphoric - maybe. I didn't have a clue, really, what he was. My research certainly hadn't helped me any. He could be something evil, something dangerous. My heart sped up at the thought.

Maybe I _didn't_ want to know what he was.

I rolled my eyes at myself. Of course I wanted to know what he was, regardless of the potential evilness of it. I _had_ to know. But then another thought occurred to me - hit me, really, though now I felt stupid for not considering this first.

Why would he want to tell _me_, anyway? Either because he finally decided to trust me and felt that he owed me, he didn't want me making wrong assumptions, or what?

Of course, if he really wanted to tell me that he was a raging killer, I doubted he would choose to do so in a semi-crowded local place of dining. So I probably didn't have to worry. I would just have to wait, and see what the meaning behind this supper meeting was. And I would be sure to observe him and his behaviors more carefully than ever to see if I could extract hints from them.

I sighed as I glanced at my phone. It was still twelve minutes until seven. This was, undoubtedly, the longest fifteen minutes I'd ever endured, and I had sat through Mr. Facette's civics classes, so that was saying something.

I folded my arms on the table and put my head in them to wait - I felt wierd sitting there alone, and the stares of the other customers were annoying me. It couldn't be that unusual for someone to walk into a restaurant alone, could it? Maybe I was just paranoid.

I was only in my cara-abajo position long when I heard a throat clear across the table from me. I bolted upright, my head spinning from the sudden movement and light.

Calmly sitting in the chair across from me, an amused smirk on his face, sat Matthew Black, looking as breathtakingly _hot_ as ever.

The curious looks of our fellow diners had vanished, instead, we were being openly gawked at - or, at least, Matt was.

My own eyes widened; I hadn't heard him come in, hadn't heard him pull out the chair or sit down or anything.

Was there no end to the crazy-weird abilities whatever-he-wases had?

I shook my head, smiling slightly. I had no doubt that he would never cease to amaze me.

He rose an eyebrow at my smile but didn't comment.

"So, how long have you been here, waiting?" His tone's light, teasing tone was echoed in his twinkling dark eyes.

"Oh, you know, a minute or two," I said airily.

He grinned, "Ah. I see. So, after a mere minute of waiting for me, you decided that it you'd exerted too much energy in the task, and so tried to sleep?"

"I wasn't sleeping," I said in a mock-indignant tone, "Otherwise... yep, that's pretty much how it went."

I caught sight of my phone, still sitting face up inches from my hands and pressed a random button so as to see the time. It was just _now_ ten to seven! How embarassing! He'd caught me.

"Well, I'm sorry to have expected so much out of you. Good thing I got here so early, I guess," he said gravely, but the corners of his mouth twitched.

"Why_ are_ you here so early?"

"I might ask you the same question," he replied, and his teasing manner slipped an almost imperceptible notch closer towards that of what it had been earlier that morning.

"But I asked you first," I reminded him.

"Alright," he conceded, his lips twitching slightly again, "I thought I'd get here ten minutes early because I wanted to be the first one here."

"And why did you want to be the first one here?"

He shrugged, "Just did. Now, I answered, so why were _you_ here even earlier than I?"

I grinned sheepishly, "Nothing better to do."

"Nothing?"

"Nope."

"Ah."

"You know, your answer was hardly satisfactory."

"Nor was yours, though."

"True enough," but there was no way I was going to tell him the real reason I'd been so early;

_'Oh, you know... because I am pathetically, hopelessly, desperately in love with you, I think. I'm also desperately curious as to what exactly you are and, well, back to the infatuation thing - I just love being around you and didn't want to miss a second of it by getting here after you.'_

Yeah. That would have gone over great.

"So, why exactly did you want to meet me here tonight?"

"Later. Let's eat first," he suggested, "I'm paying."

"Well, in that case," I started, my grin growing mischieviously, "Let's eat!"

He laughed.

We got up and walked over to the counter where the same girl I'd talked to before still stood, eyes bulging so much, I wouldn't have been surprised if they'd popped right out of her skull. Other than her temperarily odd eye disfiguration, I noted bitterly that she really was very pretty, her long hair a deep chestnut color that was streaked with red, her features petite in a pretty way...

"Um. Hi," she breathed, and shot me a quick, jealous look that said _you weren't kidding_ before looking back at Matt, as if every moment she spent _not_ looking at Matthew was a wasted one.

"I see you, uh, found your girlfriend alright," she continued.

My heart skipped a beat at this assumption.

"Mmmm," was all Matt said.

_'Mmmm'_? What did 'Mmmm' mean?

He rose his eyebrows expectantly at the girl.

"Oh. Your orders. Right," she shook her head, as if to clear it, "What did you want?"

Matt shifted his expectant gaze to me.

"Um. I'll just have fries, a burger, and a chocolate shake," I told her, "Thanks."

"Okay," she said, reluctantly tearing her eyes away from Matt's face long enough to punch that into her cash register.

"And I," Matt told her when she'd looked back up, "will have two burgers - no toppings. Make that three, actually."

"That all?" she asked.

"Yes."

"Nothing to drink?"

He hesitated, "Water, then."

"Alright," she said, as if there wasn't anything unusual about his order, "That'll be $15.71."

Matt paid her and she handed him a blue number plaque.

"I'll bring you your food - or, someone will," she informed him.

We walked back to our table and I glanced back before turning a specific corner and I noticed her still gazing dreamily after us.

"So...," I started, "That was an - interesting order."

"Was it?" he asked, watching me closely.

"Mmmhmm. Since you offered to pay, I planned on cleaning you out, you know, show you that offering to pay for me is never a good idea," I shook my head teasingly and grinned, "But, alas, you out-ordered me."

"Well, I don't mind - as long as you eat it all," he said, once again in mock-sincerity.

I laughed, "No worries; I'm far from anorexic."

"Good," he said, the corners of his mouth turning up again.

"Returning to the subject of your odd order," I began, only to be interrupted by the pretty order-girl again, bringing us our food.

"There you go," she said eagerly, putting the plastic tray of food down in front of us in such an elegant manner, a silver platter would have been more appropriate.

"Thanks," Matt said, smiling politely before turning back to me, "You were saying?"

The girl looked a little snubbed and slowly walked away.

"Well, it's a pretty weird order. You a big meat eater I take it?"

"Yes, I do enjoy meat." His expression had become slightly wary; his eyes guarded.

"Hmm. Is that something to do with, you know..." I looked around and made sure nobody was eavesdropping on us before dropping my voice to almost a whisper, "...something to do with what exactly you are?"

His expression became stony and his deep brown eyes flashed angrily. He said nothing. I waited, following his example of silence.

Finally, his expression softened again; it rather looked as if he'd pushed whatever thoughts that were bothering him away.

"Look, I really don't want to talk about that," he said, his voice soft and slightly hoarse. But before I could open my mouth to object, he continued, "Later. I promised myself I would enjoy the begining of our - super. I was going to order what I wanted, not bothering with pretenses, and I would be myself - or as much as possible. So let's enjoy ourselves and pretend the world is great and normal, yes?" By the end of his little speal, his tone was falsley bright and cheery.

"I -"

"Please. _Please_, Paige."

I sighed. There he was, pleading again. How could I turn it down?

"Fine," I answered grudgingly. Perhaps Matt could see the questions burning in my eyes, because he echoed my sigh and looked more weary than I'd have thought possible for him to look.

We ate in silence for awhile. I watched him eat, fascinated. It was slightly disgusting; he was apparently trying to restrain himself and eat slowly and with small bites, but it was obvious that he was trying really hard not to shove the entire burger into his mouth and once and scarf it down.

Dairy Freeze was nearly empty now; only us, the Dairy Freeze employee who had disappeared into the back room on the other side of the restaurant, and the rest of he coworkers, all of whom were out of earshot.

"So..." I started again. Matt looked up at me, his face once again wary, a shadow of fear in his expression.

"You said you wanted to enjoy 'the_ beginning_ of our - supper'. Does that mean that you don't intend to enjoy the rest of it? Because the beginning is _over_. I hope you enjoyed it."

"I did enjoy the very beginning," he said softly.

"But...?"

He sighed again, and for some reason I thought I saw pain, extreme pain, reflected in his face.

"But, I suppose, all good things must come to an end, especially this one, for as it's good for me, it's not for you."

"What?" I asked, totally confused and taken aback.

"I - Paige - we can't be friends."

"What do mean?" I asked, my voice softer and slightly wobbly, my heart suddenly on the verge between falling a long distance before shattering and rising in euphoria - what exactly did he mean? What did he mean? My pulse quickened, repeating with every beat this crucial question, creating panic and turmoil inside me once again.

"I mean, Paige, we can't be friends. Surely you can guess why," his was becoming aggresive, sarcastic, and - angry?

"I don't. Why?" I noticed my breath becoming ragged, my voice becoming rougher and weaker as his gained strength. He spoke through clenched teeth.

"You don't know everything about me, but you know that _I am not human_. Isn't that enough to make you not want to be my friend?"

"I don't really care about that."

"You should care," he informed me.

"Well I don't."

"Well, in any case, we can't be friends." He told me. He definitely was angry.

"Well, I think your explanation sucks."

"Too bad."

I felt my temper rise, overcoming my weak lapse of character.

"Too bad? _Too bad?_ What are you?"

"I can't tell you that."

We glared at each other.

"Why not, exactly?"

"It's - dangerous."

"Dangerous how?"

"I - can't - tell - you. But you're better off not knowing."

"How so?"

"If I told you, you'd be in danger. Please, except that as sufficient enough explanation."

"I'm not going to."

"I can't tell you anything! And I wouldn't, anyway! Ugh! You are so - infuriatingly dense sometimes!"

"Are you calling me stupid?"

"Just now? Yeah, guess so."

"I'll let that one slide if you just tell me what you are!"

"That is _not_ going to happen!"

"Fuck you. Why the hell not?"

"Shut up. Just shut the fuck up. You don't understand."

"No. That much is obvious. I _don't_ understand. And, when I offer to give you a chance to let me understand, you turn me down."

"It's for your own good."

I let out an exasperate bark of sarcastic laughter.

"Ha! Yeah, whatever."

He stood up angrily and grabbed my shoulders, his nostrils flaring and his eyes burning, looking like he wanted to kill someone. Instead of scaring me, this only made me angrier.

"Listen! We - cannot - be - friends!"

"We were friends. What is suddenly the problem?"

"We weren't friends," he scoffed, "we were acquaintences."

"Oh yeah, that's _totally_ what we were," I said in a cruelly sarcastic tone.

"So, you only talk to your friends in school? In the classes you have with them? You don't hang out outside the classrooms at all with your friends?" His tone was mocking, and it hurt.

"_You_ shut the fuck up," I shot back at him, unable to come up with a decent comeback. He seemed to read my mind; he smirked and spoke his next words slowly, deliberately.

"I was never your friend. I was being nice. I didn't want to be your friend and I still don't. I thought I'd tell you the truth."

And the truth of these words rang inside my brain, hitting it like a gong.

I felt the anger drain away, probably along with the color in my face. All feeling, all emotions melted away. I felt my heart harden, become stony and freezing cold, colder than his undoubtedly was. I felt a mask of equal indifference and coldness slip over my face. I didn't care that I'd put myself out there for him. I refused to care. I refused to feel any pain over the fact that Matthew really was the only person I'd ever - Fine. If he wanted it that way, that was the way it would be. My only regret was that it was something that would make him happy.

I refused to feel anything, to think anything at all about Matthew Black. He was a thing of the past, and would never be anywhere in my mind or heart again.

He seemed to notice the change in my attitude; his anger, too, seemed to retreat, to be replaced by one of taken aback caution and nerves.

"_Well_," I scoffed, "Are you trying to insult me by saying that _you_ were being nice to _me_? That you thought _I_ cared about _you_? Because, Matthew Black, I can _garuntee_ you that I never felt more than pity for you - the new boy who, despite decent looks, had no friends - other than, of course, the Queen of Bitches for your twin. I talked to you because I was curious, I'll admit that much. But it became evident early on that your personality is as dry as desert and just as boring. Honestly, I couldn't care less about you. Go to hell, really, I won't care."

I knew that he wouldn't be able to sense anywhere in my expression, in my tone, in anything, the slightest hint of a lie. He would be forced to believe what I said, and it would probably only make him happy. And it was true, I realized. I felt nothing for him. Nothing. I refused to let myself. And so I didn't. My heart was empty.

He was free of me at last. Whatever. I didn't care.

I refused to let myself think about thinking about anything and before I saw his reaction, I spun around and left the restaurant in a hurry, not looking back once.

**Author's Note: Please be brutally honest in your reviews. That is all. Thank you.**


	10. Cynthia Hayes

**Author's Note: Okay, so I last updated with a long chapter because I hadn't updated in awhile and felt I owed you that. However, I didn't take into consideration the many trips and activities I would be doing shortly after. So no, I have not abandoned this story. But I've only been home (and within reach of a computer) for about 2 days since my last update... I'm trying here, but I'm SO BUSY! So thanks for bearing with me! Also, I've been asked to add more of Paige's home life - the reason I haven't until now is that her home life is pretty boring - but I'd been planning this for awhile. I'd also like to thank again my REVIEWERS! So thanks!  
**

Gym became my hardest subject.

I was still stuck with Matthew Black as a partner - and so, whenever it became impossible to ignore him and him me, we exchanged quick, jerky phrases, and I glared disdainfully at him whenever our eyes met.

I still felt nothing, and not just for my gym partner. I felt nothing for anybody or anything; no fondness, nor pain, nor love, or hope, or disappointment, or sorrow - only that deep, resounding, almost painful emptiness, struggling to keep the outer wall - the wall of emotions; of my heart - out of my heart. The emptiness was winning.

It wasn't that I didn't care about homework or friends or anything - I still did my work and got decent grades - it was just that I didn't feel any motivation or particular joy or disappointment when it came to anything regarding any of them or anything anymore. I still went to the occasional party, still went out and talked about stupid, shallow, unimportant things - but I didn't audition for or go to our school's play, which was a big deal for me. My heart was swollen and numb, but not sorrowed. I refused to let it become remotely sad.

Hours turned into days; days turned into weeks; weeks turned into months. Nothing changed.

* * *

"Paige?" My aunt called from the kitchen as soon as I stepped through the door. Odd. I hardly ever saw Cynthia Hayes, my aunt, legal guardian, and housemate, on the weekdays. She slept in the mornings while I was sat through school. She went to work every afternoon at the hospital, (she was an office worker there) and went out almost every night, so she was rarely home before I went to bed. I was used to finding and utilizing an empty house. Having her there practically felt like an invasion. It was the first shadow of a feeling I'd felt in months.

"Yeah?" I asked, finding her. She was sitting at the kitchen table alone, sipping a hot chocolate. It _was_ a cold January afternoon, "You're home early."

"Yep. Well, I had off today. And I thought we'd - er - hang out."

I raised my eyebrows skeptically, "Really?"

"Yes."

"Cynthia, come on. What's really bothering you?"

"Oh. Nothing. Well, something actually. I don't know - I just feel so paranoid lately," she attempted to laugh breezily, but her tense intonation wasn't very convincing. Her deep brown eyes darted around the room nervously.

"What do you mean?" I asked, leaning against the door frame.

"Well - I know it's silly -" she brushed her hair out of her eyes and attempted to look sheepish, "But I swear when I get home every night - well, I feel like I'm being - watched."

"Watched?" I asked indifferently. I studied my thirty-two-year-old aunt. I'd always had to admire her; for my entire childhood, I'd thought she was the most beautiful person I'd ever seen. She really was stunning; she was thin, but not overly so - tall, but not too tall. Her fabulous, shoulder-length hair was strewn with streaks of varying shades of red, brown, black, and blonde. She pulled it off well. She had a gorgeous, wrinkle-free, heart-shaped face. It was no wonder she was always invited to social events, and was never found wanting on dates.

Of course my opinion on her looks had gone way down since seeing Lorraine and Matthew Black.

I felt a pang against my heart's wall at the thought. Why did she have to remind me of them? Not that I cared. _No_, I thought, mentally erasing the pang - _I didn't care_.

I hadn't seen my aunt for more than a cumulative half hour in weeks, (when she didn't go out on weekends, I shut myself in my room) but I noticed now that there were a few subtle differences in her appearance. She'd always been carefree and trusting - now I saw shadows of worry on her face. Her hair was a little less perfect than usual, and her clothes were somewhat wrinkled and way less fancy than what she usually wore.

"Yeah. I'll admit it - I'm worried that I may have a stalker," she watched my face and continued earnestly, "I know what you're thinking -_ that's ridiculous_, _that only happens in movies_, _blah blah blah_. But whenever I get home at night, when I enter the room, I feel like someone just left it. And like I said, I feel like I'm being watched all the time - but only when I'm home. I swear one night I even saw - a - a glimpse of a figure on the stairs," she interpreted my indifferent look to be one of doubt and laughed at herself, "You're right, it's stupid. It's just been going on for months now and I keep trying to tell myself I'm being stupid, but it's not as if I could tell anyone else without being regarded as crazy. I suppose I've been watching too many horror movies, "she sighed.

"Yeah, I guess so," I said, making myself chuckle.

She laughed, "Wow, you have no idea how much better I feel getting that off my chest. It's been slowly tearing me apart at the seems - but saying it aloud, well, yeah. Thanks Paigie."

I rolled my eyes at my childish nickname, "Yes, because I did _so much_." She smiled.

"Yes, you did. Well, Paigie, I did clear my night's schedule. Do you want to do something? We haven't really talked much in a long time. The last time I took you out, we went to the zoo, do you remember?"

"Yeah, I do." It had been about three months after I'd moved in with her.

"Wow, you've grown up fast. Well?"

"Oh - uh - sure."

This night was sure to be interesting.

"Well, you're too old for the zoo - where do you want to go?"

What could get me out of talking?

"A movie?" I suggested.

"But you can't talk during a movie. Let's go out to dinner for sure, and then how about we go shopping and then how about we buy a new movie to bring home and watch. So we still get your movie seeing done. Sound good?"

Her tone made it obvious that I didn't really have a choice.

"Sure."

"Good. Well then, let's get ready."

I sighed, "Okay."

We both went to our rooms. I threw on a nicer shirt, ran a brush through my hair, and knocked on Cynthia's door.

"Ready?" I asked.

"No!" She threw open the door and looked me over, sighing. Her hair was up in a fancy arrangement and she was halfway into a tight black dress.

"Oh come on! We're going out! You look like you just got home from school."

"I _did_ just get home from school."

"But now you're going out. Change, please. I've told you a million times, it's best to always look your best. You never know who you might meet."

She shut the door again.

After changing twice more and letting Cynthia touch up my makeup and do my hair, we were set and we finally left the house.

"So where do you want to eat?" she asked once we were out on the town, (she insisted on walking) "Is Dairy Freeze still your favorite? I mean it's not that fancy but-"

"No. I don't like Dairy Freeze anymore," I said stiffly.

"Oh. Well, okay. Good. We can go somewhere better. Damn. You're too young to get into Mitty's. How about Pioneer Grill or Betty's Kitchen?"

"Pioneer Grill."

"Sound good."

"So... what made you change your high opinion of Dairy Freeze?" she asked after a walking in silence for several minutes.

I internally groaned.

I externally shrugged.

"Well come on; there has to be a reason."

"Grew out of it I guess."

"I thought you still loved it - didn't you go out there several times this summer?"

"Yeah."

"So what happened?"

I shrugged again, and Cynthia rolled her eyes and threw up her hands in exasperation.

"What the hell? You are _never_ this quiet and hard to get information out of," she studied my face and slowed her pace, her face and tone becoming deadly serious, "...Or this serious and depressed. What happened?"

I sighed, "It doesn't matter."

"Something did," she said, nodding at my vague confirmation, "I cross my heart and hope to die I won't tell another soul as long as I live - or however that's supposed to go," she promised, holding a hand up.

The corner of my mouth twitched, "I don't remember. But that's not what I'm worried about."

"Than what _are_ you worried about? I can actually be trustworthy, you know."

"Yeah. Well, it's - er - I don't know. I guess I'm embarrassed too." I crossed my arms.

She groaned, "You are _killing_ me here! _What happened_?"

"Well, there's this guy..." I started, smiling a little at my aunt's reaction.

"Ah," she said, throwing her head back and rolling her eyes, "I knew it. They cause all the problems in this life, don't they? Well," her eyes found mine again, "Which guy was this?"

I hadn't originally intended to tell her anything at all about Matthew - but for some reason, being around her made me feel very at ease - perhaps it was because everything about her was warm but brisk - and so I figured I'd tell her a bit - a very little bit - of the truth.

"Well, he was great. Best-looking guy I'd ever seen. And the best personality too. Anyway, we - he - sort of broke up with me in Dairy Freeze."

"So were dating?"

"Uh - sort of."

"Sort of?"

"Well we hung out in gym and English and talked all the time. But we never went on a date or even talked outside of those classes. But then one day he invited me to Dairy Freeze, and, well, sort of told me he didn't want to be my friend, and had only been being nice by talking to me."

I felt humiliated getting the words out. Why had I suddenly felt the need to tell her nearly everything?

"Okaaaay..." she said, obviously confused, "So that was painful? This seems weird - why would he have to drag you to Dairy Freeze to tell you he didn't want to be your friend - which by the way, seems extraordinarily junior high to begin with? It just doesn't make sense. And why does that make you not want to go to Dairy Freeze? Because of humiliation at his juvenile behavior? I guess I just don't get it."

"Uh... yeah." My face burned. Of course my reaction had been ridiculous. Of course I was stupid; who else in the _world_ would become so obsessed over a guy so quickly - and one who obviously had not felt the same way?

"Wait," Cynthia said slowly, scrutinizing my face, "Did you have feelings for the guy? He seems like a real jerk..."

Her tone implied that I had been foolish to acquire feelings for him, that I should have seen he was a jerk and somehow stopped the feelings I'd had, thus preventing the whole Dairy Freeze episode.

"Well, yeah, I kinda did." I admitted, in an almost-rude tone. It felt almost like a necessity to tell someone, _anyone_, finally - and also, her tone was angering me, thus egging me on.

"Oh," she said, clearly taken aback. The air suddenly seemed tense; Cynthia was offended for some reason beyond me. I was extremely annoyed.

"Actually, I really did," I continued in the same defiant tone, "A lot. And if you'd been in my place, you'd have felt the same way. Apparently he'd seen or sensed my hopeless crush on him and felt the need to tell me the truth. Whatever. I don't really care."

"I see. What was this kid's name?"

"Matthew Black," I all-but-snarled back at her.

She started in complete surprise, all traces of challenging hostility and superiority suddenly gone.

"Matthew _Black_? As in a relation of Renesme and Jacob Black?"

"Yeah," I said carefully, surprised by her sudden change in attitude, "They're his aunt and uncle."

"Oh," she said, this time as lightly as possible.

"Why?" I asked, "Do you know them?"

"Uh," she began evasively, "Yeah, I've seen them around."

"And?" I pressed.

"Well, you know. Have you seen them? I mean, it's no wonder you fell for their nephew. I don't blame you."

"A second ago you did. And no; I haven't seen them."

"Well - Renesme Black is breathtakingly beautiful," she admitted begrudgingly, "Actually, those words are an understatement. I didn't know it was possible for anyone to look that beautiful, but she does. I used to turn guy's heads. Now, if she's in a place, guys pay zero attention to me. Nobody does. It's terrible. And she's _married_ for crying out loud. And Jacob Black - wow. He's not at all as inhumanely good-looking as she is but - he looks about twenty-seven. He's tall - one of the tallest men I've ever seen in my life. And he's _so_ muscular. Tall, dark, and mysterious doesn't even begin to cover him. He's so dark, and quiet, and rough, and_ masculine_. Ugh. You should see him. Such a shame he's married. And of course he'd get _her_. But they're stuck up and snobbish anyway, so it's no wonder that their nephew is too. Sorry you got mixed up with them."

I was surprised, but had no doubts that we were talking about the same family. I had to wonder though, how exactly my aunt knew the Blacks.

The rest of the night passed without anything major happening. We went out to eat, we watched a movie, and we talked about silly, shallow things. We caught up. My aunt was cooler than I remembered.

Overall, it was a good night.


	11. The Truth

The next day I woke up early and therefore got to school in a likewise fashion. I always walked to school - it was about a mile away, but I liked walking through the city in the early morning especially with my umbrella in the rain - plus, walking woke me up, and I didn't have to take a bus. I detested buses. And of course, since I didn't have a job, I didn't have a car.

School passed by uneventfully - except for the fact that Matthew Black was not in school. I hated that I noticed that - had I really remained that attuned to him for all this time?

The day went by in its usual blur, but I had to stay late to work on my History project.

I was one of the last people to leave the school - outside, the campus seemed completely deserted.

I had just taken a few steps onto the departing sidewalk when _he_, seemingly materializing out of thin air, stepped out from behind a tree and into my path.

I froze for a second and my breath caught in shock. Out of all the people that could have stepped out from behind that tree, he'd have been the very last one on my 'expected' list.

Before I could help myself I'd looked him over, only to instantly regret it. I hadn't allowed myself to fully _look_ at him since the Dairy Freeze episode; now I was struck again by his impossible good looks.

My heart ached somewhere deep in my chest.

I ignored it.

What was he doing here anyway? He hadn't been in school all day...

I regained my composure and continued on my walk, closing the distance between us and pretending that I hadn't seen him.

As I got closer, he took a pointed step in my direction. His face was unreadable; his expression cloudy. I didn't let myself look too closely or too long at any specific part of him.

I had to remind myself that I _didn't care_ about him.

And remind myself again.

I was being stupid, immature; absolutely ridiculous. I didn't care about this boy. _He meant_ nothing_ to me._

"Paige," he started hoarsely as I closed in on a distance about five feet away from him.

I stopped. I'd never heard his voice come out with such a rough edge to it before. It was - as much as I hated to mentally acknowledge it - extremely sexy. But I _absolutely_ refused to acknowledge, mentally or otherwise, the depth and intensity seemingly ringing from the single syllable. I didn't want to think about what that could mean. I wouldn't think about it. I wouldn't care. I _didn't_ care.

"What do you want, Matthew?" I asked scathingly, glaring at the tree.

_I didn't care. I didn't care. I didn't care, I didn't care, I didn't care, I didn't care..._

He cleared his throat in an obvious attempt to catch my eye. What could he possibly want?

I succumbed to my curiosity and sought his gaze.

It was a mistake; his eyes were smoldering, burning and boring their way into mine.

The intensity and passion contained within that look should have been impossible.

"Paige, enough of this." His voice was low and urgent, its passionate ferocity nearly matching that in his eyes. I was caught off guard and so against my will, I was mesmerized.

I couldn't think or respond. Having him at such a close proximity after not seeing him in so long... I'd forgotten how - amazing - he was. His low, coarse, and musically masculine voice; his dark, rich, beautiful skin; his curly mop of bronze-colored hair, his warm aura; his deep, mystery-holding eyes; his severe cheekbones; his muscles; the literal heat emanating from him... No. No! I didn't care! I was certainly _not_ about to be drawn in by his physical appearance again. It had been such a huge mistake last time - and I'd been cast as the idiot in the scenario.

I hated feeling the fool.

He didn't like me, and I was stupid! I _didn't like_ him, for crying out loud!

"I'm sick of this - this _hating_ each other," he continued.

"And what exactly do you mean by that?" I asked scornfully, my eyes narrowing into accusatory, distrusting slits.

"I don't care anymore," he continued, his voice becoming hollower, jerkier, and slightly more bitter, "I mean, I do, and my reasons were real, but - I don't care about the other things. I'm selfish. Too selfish. I want - us - to be - er - friends. No. More than friends. But I can't make you. You shouldn't. But I want to - so, so badly. If you... want."

My breath, as well as all inward functions and thoughts my body contained or was host to, froze.

"I don't understand," I started cautiously, trying to muster up as much hostility as possible, "We hate each other. I thought we agreed; at the beginning of the school year I was being nice to you, and you, for some odd reason, felt the need to do the same for me," and strung me along and made me actually put myself out there and actually believe that you felt for me - you had me falling completely for you until - "Until you changed your mind and decided that I wasn't worth it - or something like that. You hate me, remember?"

He winced.

"No. I don't hate you. Quite the opposite."

I was taken aback; instantly surprise, anger, confusion, and - though I hated it - hope, threatened to barge through my carefully controlled heart walls.

"What do you mean?" I asked, my acrimony and resentment becoming more evident in my tone with every word I spoke. It had been a long time since I'd felt like this; since I'd felt so _raw_ and emotional. I absolutely loathed it.

He exhaled slowly in obvious frustration.

"Well, I'm sorry if I am too _unintelligent_ to understand what you mean," I started tightly, my pique flaring up again, "but-"

"I lied. Paige, I lied through my teeth. And I got mad, and lied some more. I - I feel more strongly about you than I do about any other human - unquestionably."

He sighed, this time quickly and tensely.

My heart throbbed, and a flood of unnamed, unrecognizable, and unacknowledged emotions pummeled and rushed over my heart wall, reducing it to a pitiful and non-re-constructable heap of heart-pieces.

I was distraught, appalled, stunned, confused, hurt, dizzy, angry, jubilant, overwhelmed, hopeful, wary, indignant, irritated, depressed, and so much more - and all at once. And I was upset for feeling all these things on top of it all - I mean, it wasn't as if we'd even had a real relationship. We'd been friends. I'd let my imagination get the better of me.

So basically; I was an instantaneous mess.

The emotions must shown - at least a little - on my face, for Matthew's became concerned.

"Paige?" he asked, his eyebrows furrowing in concern.

I closed my eyes - I didn't want him to see what I was feeling, and my eyes - as they say - were the 'gateways to my soul' ; at any rate, there was where my control and disguise were weakest.

"So," I started slowly, trying to sort out my scrambled brain, "You lied. So. So, what does that mean exactly? Why did you lie, if that's how you felt?" despite my lack of emotional restraint and waterfall of emotion, I was not ready to accept his story. I still had control over my _thoughts_ at least.

"It's complicated," he said softly. I could feel the edges of his breath trace my face. He was standing very close to me; I could almost see his deep eyes staring at my eyelids, trying to get me to open the betrayers and tell him what I was thinking.

But why would he care?

Was he telling the truth?

"But wait," I continued, "What do you mean you feel more strongly about me than about any other -_ human?_"

I didn't really care about the answer. The question - the only one that mattered in the entire world at that moment, really - was reverberating into every corner of my mind._ Did he mean it?_

I didn't want to dare to hope - it would only be setting myself up for future disappointment, disappointment that I knew I couldn't take. I absolutely detested feeling like an emotional wreck - as I did at that very moment - I couldn't imagine what I'd end up like if I put myself out there again and found he'd been lying. But why would he lie? For sex? That seemed unlikely; he hadn't made any advances in the past, and I wasn't the type of girl to advertise myself in that way - and there were other girls in school - probably most of the girls in school - who would have slept with him, no questions asked, and been delighted that they'd once slept with such an amazing guy. Plus, why would he go after me, after we'd had that row? It made no sense.

Maybe he was into the hard-to-get girls. But I hadn't been hard-to-get until he'd broken up - so to speak - with me.

So what other reason would he have to be lying?

I still hadn't ever really gotten the spiteful-just-to-be-spiteful vibe from him, so it didn't seem very possible that he would be doing this just to mess with me, and embarrass and/or hurt me later.

"I meant just that. And it's all related," he answered, his words rushed - either in relief or embarrassment.

"You're not making any sense," I told him, my eyes flying open in frustration.

"I know," he said apologetically. His moods seemed to be changing alarmingly swiftly, but (if it was possibly to have more than one mood at once) they all seemed to float on top of the intensity, of hope, and of near giddiness.

"It's just that it feels great to be finally be getting this out in the open - and wretched - but that's besides the point. Paige, I know we have only known each other for a few months - but - I have a confession to make," he didn't wait for me to ask what it was, "I - well, it's complicated. But - alright, this isn't working. Let me start from the beginning. Well, actually, for me to start there, it's necessary for me to begin at the middle.," he laughed, still tense, and looked around nervously. After becoming apparently sufficiently reassured that we were not being overheard, he continued, leading me in a resumption of my former exit of campus, "Well, you know when the bleachers collapsed?"

"Yes, of course," I responded tightly. Truthfully, since the Dairy Freeze episode, it had been all I could do not to think about Matthew at all, much less about the episode in which he'd saved me under impossible circumstances.

All my questions about what sort of being he was had been forgotten. Now they resurfaced.

I was not impressed by his banter, though it's babbling quality forced me to trust him a little more.

"Well, you saw me - er - save you under improbable circumstances. And you guessed that I wasn't human. Correctly. Mostly correctly, anyway."

"What do you mean?" I asked.

My former flood of emotions that had been halfway through running their course suddenly stopped and disappeared. I didn't care about much else - I was immediately consumed by my old obsessive desire to know _what_ exactly Matthew was. Was he about to tell me?

"I mean what I said; you were correct," he lowered his voice's volume, "I am part human. About a quarter of me is human."

My heart was thumping extremely loudly now. I was without doubt in the presence of some sort of otherworldly creature. I remembered the impossible speed and strength deployed in his effort to save me. Images and names of the most popular fictional species flashed through my head; zombie, superhero, vampire, alien, ghost, mermaid, dragon, werewolf, fairy - I mean _everything_ popped into my thoughts.

He pulled me aside, into a thicket of trees near the road.

"I'm not - I can't tell you everything. If I did, it would mean you either losing your life or your soul. And I _will not_ let that happen."

I waited, my heart thudding more painfully as he stared at me, gauging my reaction to his every word.

"But I figure I have a right to tell you the other side of me. I mean, everyone else can tell their - but I'll get to that. Okay, I won't blame you for freaking out over this but - I'm a - well - shape shifter."

I blinked. Shape shifter? That didn't explain anything - not the speed, strength - nothing. Had all those qualities come from his unmentionable side? Why hadn't he turned into some kind of animal when he needed to save me, then? I'd seen him save me the entire time - he hadn't changed form.

Was the slight disappointment I felt completely out of line? I should have been _relieved_ that it wasn't something weirder. That _he_ wasn't something weirder.

"I shape-shift into a a wolf. I'm also known as a werewolf."

He was all-but whispering his torrent of words now.

I didn't think it was possible for one's heart to beat as fast as mine suddenly was.

"That gives me some of the qualities you know I have. Or at least, contributes to it. I'm - a rather special werewolf though. Most werewolves are impossibly and inhumanly strong - I am stronger than them. Sense of smell, of sight - mine's the best. And the speed - well, it partially comes from my - er - wolf side. None of that really matters, but that you know that because of these things, I am _dangerous_," He closed his eyes and tilted his head back slightly in apparent anguish, his tone practically soft moaning now, "You _have_ to be properly warned. I can't even tell you how dangerous - " He snapped his eyes open and his penetrating, secret-containing gaze back to my own. "But my point, the one I'm getting to - is that - that first day - when I saw your face... well, ugh, this is hard to explain."

He groaned, ran his fingers through his hair, and gave me an apologetic, lopsided, and sheepish grin. I stared back at him, my face not letting anything show. I didn't say anything - I had nothing to say. It all seemed impossible... yet I remembered how impossible his saving me had been. He had to be telling the truth.

"Alright, I'm just going to get this all out of the way, overwhelming though it undoubtedly will be for you. I know I'm not making much sense; I'm just - so thrilled to be - well, talking to you again. And now that I've started - I want to tell you everything. God! It's never been so difficult to get what I want to say said. Okay. Well, werewolves - well - it's a - there's a wolf thing. Call it werewolf instinct if you want. But it's when a werewolf makes eye contact with their soul mate - the one they're 'designed for' - and they know that the person is their other half, life partner - instantaneously. And I - well - when I looked at your face - I came as close to imprinting - to this, er, instinctive wolf thing - as Carlisle - as - er - some people - thinks is possible, my being the unique combination of mythical creatures that I am. But the more important issue is that when I caught your scent - well you're my - what they call _singer_ too. And that's bad. You don't want to be somebody's singer. It just means that it makes the - being - desperately want to kill you. So basically; part of me wants to kill you. Badly. And the other part knows you are supposed to be my soul mate."

He reached out his hands, as if to grip my shoulders with, but let them drop instead. He watched my face anxiously.

"It's why I wanted you to stay away from me, and me you - to protect you!" he inserted quickly, "But now my desire to be with you has won out and-"

I shuddered once, instinctively, and his expression hardened. He stopped talking.

I was overwhelmed.


	12. Thought Sorting

**Author's Note: First of all, PLEASE REVIEW! Second of all, I rewrote the last chapter and thirdly, NO! I have not abandoned this story! I'm just really unbelievably crazy busy - I have no free time. I feel like I owe you all an explanation and example as proof but for those of you who don't care; skip the rest of this. Okay, so why am I so slow in updating? Because everyday I wake up at about 6:30am and get to school by 7:00am for play practice and then have my classes; yearbook (I am photo editor) accounting, band, composition 2 (- 12th grade level), composition 2 (- college level/course), calculus, study hall, and mass media. Then I have either work, independent chorus, spanish studies, pep band, family events, competitions, or trips until usually 9:00ish or later every night. By the time I get everything done I get to sleep around midnight to start over the next day. In the midst of all this and in my spare time I fill out college applications, hang out with friends, visit family, do homework, socialize, and research future stuff. For this month I'm involved in FBLA, FFA, NHS, One Act Play, and I'm starting a debate team. All these extra curriculars and classes, btw, take_ mucho tiempo!_ I have field trips and piles of homework and it's just been a little nuts. But that's the way I love it. :D Anyways, please understand - and enjoy! **

_Matthew. Werewolf._

My head was spinning; my thought process was reduced to generating only small sentence fragments and thought bits as it tried to sort itself out.

_Didn't hate me. Lied before. Was lying now? _

_No. Didn't think so, anyway. _

_Werewolf. Knew he wasn't human. But a _werewolf_?_

"I just - need a minute!" I managed to gasp, and I didn't look at Matthew before I turned away from him. My legs threatened to give out on me, and so I sat down shakily and leaned against a tree for support.

It had begun to rain. I hardly noticed and didn't care.

_Werewolf. _

_Evil. Always assumed he was something good, even with disagreeing ideas. Deep down, I thought... _

_But Matthew - Werewolf. _

_Killing._

I started to shake. Had Matthew_ killed_ anyone? If he was a werewolf - did that mean that he ate people? What did werewolves eat, anyway?

I remembered Dairy Freeze, how Matthew had ordered hamburgers and water - no cheese.

So they ate meat.

_Super Werewolf. A super werewolf that wanted to kill me._

Why wasn't that fact alone sending me running in terror? It should have. But the only thought I had in that department was a sarcastic _of course_ before I was suddenly consumed with thoughts I deemed more worthy of attention.

_He must really be werewolf. What other explanation was there? And he was a werewolf that - what - thought we were soul mates? _Me_, soul mates with a _werewolf_? With the Matthew that I'd thought I'd sort of known?_

Suddenly, I could see it. Me, old; gray-haired, and wrinkled, sitting in front of a fireplace with an elderly Matthew by my side. He would still be celestial in his old age. If werewolves aged. Did they? It seemed to me that somewhere I'd read or heard that they did. They were mostly human, right? And only turned into a wolf when it was a full moon.

Could this 'connection' explain my inexcusable and abnormal obsession with him? Was it just because of that look he'd given me on the first day of school? The look of what I'd instinctively thought to be unconditional love... maybe it had been. And maybe I'd been subconsciously searching for someone to look at me that way my entire life. Or maybe somewhere in me, deep down, I knew that he was my soul mate? Was that what it was to be swept off your feet, to experience love at first sight? That you'd found your soul mate, your other half, the most crucial piece in the puzzle of your life?

But what did that mean, really? That I would always be with Matthew, never feel desire for another guy?

Then I realized; I hadn't felt truly attracted towards any guy since my little crush on Matt.I hadn't even checked other guys out. My desire to do so had evaporated after seeing him for the first time. Of course, look-wise, no other guy came remotely close to comparing.

But that didn't mean I wouldn't _ever_ be attracted to another guy... did it?

I sighed.

The pieces of my shattered heart ached. I didn't want to believe it; didn't want to let him in again - but against my will, I felt myself succumbing.

And then my thoughts returned to the matter of him wanting to kill me. 'Badly'. Strangely and probably stupidly, I didn't much care about that. At least, I didn't care as much as I should have. I mean, he'd _saved_ my life; never endangered it, right?

I knew that if he'd wanted to kill me _that_ badly, he could (and probably would) have already. I'd seen his strength; his speed. He could probably kill me in less than a second if he wanted to.

So why didn't that scare me shit-less? Instead, here I was, relatively calmly accepting it.

And I was more concerned with the fact that this _werewolf_ claimed to be my _soul mate_. Not necessarily a lover, but a soul mate; he hadn't said he loved me or anything of that sort. Only that he'd _imprinted_ on me - which sounded quite screwy. From what I gathered, he didn't have much of a choice in this relationship, like _he_ was stuck with _me_, whether he liked it or not. So it wasn't that I was particularly pretty, or that something in my personality had caught his attention and attracted him. Nope. It was just that he suddenly knew he had to end up with me because of some weird mythical connection thing.

He probably wasn't even attracted to me at all. And he undoubtedly didn't _love_ me. I'd hate someone who I was forced to be with for the rest of my life. I'd want my future and who I fell in love with to be my own choice.

But _did_ I have a choice in this?

What would happen to me, if I let Matt in again, and let myself completely and truly love him? Would my feelings ever fizzle out? Would I become sick of him after twenty years? If he left or died - would I be able to move on and find myself another lover?

I instinctively knew that the answer to all of the questions was _no_. No. I would not ever lose these feelings, I'd never get sick of him; and if he died or left - I'd die inside. No one would ever be able to replace him.

I wasn't used to so much emotion and feeling, and I hated myself for the way my heart was throbbing (thereby adding _another_ emotion!). It felt as if someone had stabbed me again and again in the chest and was trying to rub my wounds with salty, burning, but healing salve.

Of course, then I knew everything and it all fell into place; I was crazy. Really, totally, completely lunatic. I belonged in an insane asylum.

I let out a hysterical bark of laughter and looked around, embarrassed. Nobody was nearby.

My hysteria was instantly covered by a combination of fear, panic, and relief.

Matthew was nowhere to be seen.

My heart pounded even faster than it had been.

"Matthew?" I breathed. I jumped up and spun around, peering through the ever-thickening sheet of falling rain.

There was no sign of him.

I felt exposed, as if my being blind-sided by the rain allowed anyone and everyone else to observe me. And I felt as if one or more people were taking advantage of that and were observing me.

I hurriedly raced towards home, dimly registering my soaked hair and clothes, my squeaky, slippery, and soggy shoes.

I didn't care. There were still more important things on my mind.

* * *

I had an entire weekend to sort out my thoughts, many of which were repetitions and other versions of the first thoughts that had gone through my head. After hours of contemplation and memoirs I decided on several things.

First of all, I didn't care. Whatever Matthew was, whatever he had done; I knew that I would never be able to tear myself away from him. I'd let him in. And whatever happened, happened.

I suppose my thought process came from a long-buried mischievous side of me breaking free from the depths of soul. It was what had always gotten me sucked into adventurous books and movies; it was what wanted me to have my own adventure.

Indeed, if I was to let Matt in and believe what he'd said; it would be an adventure. I'd not only be risking my life literally, but figuratively as well - because I'd decided I was going to openly jump into this relationship; knowing all the while that it could end badly but choosing to ignore that little fact.

If I ended up dying, oh well. What else did I have to live for, anyway? It wasn't as if my life was full of meaningful relationships...

Secondly, I'd forgiven Matthew for lying and was going to believe what he'd said.

Thirdly; I had to know if Matt was attracted to me at all. If he even liked me, or felt the need to remain in contact with him an obligation. The relationship must be his choice at all times.

So that covered it, and by the time I got to school early on Monday morning, I was ready to tell him that I was going to accept what he'd said and him in general.


	13. Discovery

I don't know what I expected, really. Matthew to be waiting for me at the entrance to the school, or in the gym? Waiting for me to run up to him and proclaim my new revelation - that of my not caring about what he was, that of my just wanting to be with him, if he was willing?

If that was my plan, I was sorely disappointed.

Matthew Black was not in school.

I waited. And waited. And waited more.

It was excruciating.

The desire to see him, to tell him the news, to actually try a real - relationship - with him was utterly overwhelming.

I had to see him.

I was anxious and fidgety all through gym, failing miserably in my volleyball match.

He never showed.

The day dragged by at an almost painful rate. I'd never known a day _could_ take so long.

It sure didn't take long for me to be reduced into a pile of pitiful, bitter feelings.

Why the hell couldn't he have shown up in school?

What kind of person - or being for that matter - drops the kind of news that he'd dropped on me and then just disappeared, not offering any type of reassurance, explanations, or curiosity as to my reaction?

It seemed a little ridiculous.

By the time Science rolled around, I was so unbelievably frustrated, I could have punched someone.

I sat down angrily in my usual place next to Lorraine Black.

Then I froze.

Lorraine was always sitting in her seat before I got there, looking away or down or wherever, her long black hair forming an ominous curtain between us. She always ignored me, and - until now - I'd ignored her.

Today was no exception; there she sat - as cool and distant as always.

Matthew Black was not in school today.

Lorraine Black was.

If Matthew Black was a werewolf, and they were siblings with apparently the same - talents - surely that made Lorraine a werewolf too... right?

Had I really been so daft as to never have let this thought occur to me?

I'd come to accept Matthew's werewolf-ness. I'd always felt that there was something extraordinary about him. I was okay with him as he was. But Lorraine - Lorraine with her penetrating stare and withdrawn, icy personality.

I was not okay with Lorraine being one.

Indeed, it was easy to see Lorraine as evil - more so than I'd ever been able to slightly imagine Matthew.

But I needed to talk to her, especially if I was ever going to talk to Matthew again.

I supposed it was better to get things out of the way.

"Lorraine?" I asked softly, staring at the deep black, impenetrable wall of hair. I cleared my throat.

Then - in what seemed like less than a second - in what was, at any rate, a seemingly inconceivable speed - she was staring at me, her hair perfect and apparently unmoved, her beatific face impassive with an underlying invasively curious and angry tone, her striking green eyes meeting mine, boring their way into my soul.

I was taken aback and temporarily lost my train of thought.

"What?" she asked softly, pulling me back into my previous state of mind.

"Um. Just that - well, where is Matthew today?"

She raised an eyebrow skeptically.

"How should I know?" she asked condescendingly, "It wasn't my turn to watch him."

"But - you're siblings. Don't you know where he is when he misses school?"

Her gaze intensified. I felt as if she was searching my brain for answers to unasked questions.

The corners of her mouth lifted an infestimenial amount.

"We're seniors in high school. I don't have to babysit him," she scoffed.

"Even so, you'd think - well, never mind," I continued, "but can you at least tell him something from me when you see him next? Please?"

"What might this something be?" she asked nonchalantly, her stare never wavering.

"Well - just that - I need to talk to him," I said, "As soon as possible. And that it's very important."

Her eyes flooded with a sudden disappointment.

"Is that all?" She asked tightly.

"Yes," I confirmed, and stared back at her, thinking that even if she had been able to search my soul, she wouldn't have found any answers or further information.

"Fine," she sighed, rolling her eyes and turning away again.

The curtain of hair had been reconstructed. Apparently that was the end of that conversation.

I could concentrate even less for the duration of that class then I'd been able to do the entire day. I kept glancing at Lorraine, studying her, and trying not to think the thoughts that wanted to be thought.

Finally, FINALLY, the bell rang. I was out of my seat and out the door in record time. I had to be away from Lorraine to think freely.

Something had occurred to me; a theory that I really didn't want to think out in her presence... in case I was correct.

I remembered the first day of school. I remembered thinking that it seemed almost as if Lorraine could read - thoughts. I had, of course, scoffed at my stupid idea and felt rather foolish for entertaining it for as long as I had.

But bits of information had been added to my brain since that first encounter.

I knew several important things now.

I knew that Matthew was not human - and since Lorraine was his twin, surely that meant that she was not a normal being either. She seemed more like a mythical creature than Matthew, anyhow.

Maybe Lorraine Black _could_ read minds.

Hadn't Matthew said he was sort of a 'Super Werewolf?' what did that mean? Is that why he couldn't tell me what he was? Was he some sort of secret superhero? Did all those comic books, movies, and stories about said super beings have some original basis in fact? Perhaps these people lived around the world, masquerading as ordinary folk whilst secretly harboring super powers?

Perhaps Lorraine's power was being able to read minds. Perhaps Matthew's was the immense strength and speed I'd seen him execute in his effort to rescue me. _Plus_ he was a werewolf! The world got crazier every minute!

I shook my head as I made my way out of the building - there was no point to finishing the school day; I'd get nothing out of it.

I walked home, my thoughts extremely repetitive.

My house was towards the edge of town; about three blocks of fairly spaced houses separated it from thick woods. It took me about fifteen minutes to get there.

I went straight up to my bedroom and threw myself onto my bed. The day had seemed seventeen times longer than it actually had been.

I had to talk to Matthew.

I had to distract myself.

What to do, what to do?

I could read a book. I could watch television. Or... I could think of Matthew.

_Stupid!_ I told myself, _He wasn't in school today, remember? Maybe everything he said yesterday - about _us_ - was a lie after all._

My mind instantly shrank away in pained fear of such thoughts. No. Something must have happened. There _must_ be some logical and acceptable reason for his absence.

There had to be.

I sighed, closed my eyes, and drifted off, thinking of Matthew.

**Author's Note: Reviews inspire me to make time and update more often! So please, review!**


	14. The Visitor

_Matthew. His shaggy, curly, bronze-colored hair hanging down from three sides of his face. He was leaning over me - I must have been laying down. I observed his chiseled features, the stubble on his chin. You didn't notice the stubble from a distance - you had to be very close. I felt his warm, muscular arms around me. They held me tighter. My gaze shifted to his eyes. Their depths astounded me._

_Doorbell. I was vaguely aware... someone was ringing a doorbell somewhere. Why? Who would be so rude as to interrupt this precious moment?_

_Matthew's mouth opened. He was trying to tell me something... but I couldn't hear. What was he saying?_

_The doorbell continued to ring, louder, and more persistent. It drowned out Matthew's voice. I was going to have to give this person a piece of my mind!_

I shifted slightly, came back to reality, and opened my eyes.

Matthew dissolved.

I bit my lip in disappointment. It had been a dream. Only a dream.

Matthew Black was not here. I held back the tears suddenly threatening to spill over. What was wrong with me?

The doorbell rang.

So that much had been reality - and it had been what had woken me up.

I sprang off of my bed, out my open door, and down the stairs, making my way to the front door.

The unknown visitor was probably about to give up and leave - perhaps I should let them, as revenge for interrupting my glorious dream!

But no, it wasn't their fault they'd woken me up. It was only - I slipped my phone out of my pocket and glanced at the time - it was only just now four o'clock.

I thought for a second of how I must look right now - no doubt my makeup was smudged, my hair frizzy and falling out of its messy bun, my clothes wrinkled and frumpy.

No matter; it was probably nobody important and no doubt someone for my aunt.

I opened the door. My mouth fell open a little and I froze. There, his hair and clothes wet from the cold rain and plastered against his masculine body, his expression unreadable, stood Matthew Black.

I was speechless.

Vaguely I remembered how I looked and felt myself blushing.

We continued to stare at each other, waiting for the other to speak.

We really needed to get a door with a window in it.

Matthew cleared his throat.

"Hi," he said gruffly, averting his eyes.

"Hey," I breathed in response. My dream had not done him justice.

"Lorraine -" he continued, "Lorraine said you wanted to talk to me."

"Right," I said, shaking my head to clear it, "Yeah. I do. Er- do you want to come in?"

Matthew, in my house?

"Sure," he said.

I jumped back and awkwardly gestured for him to walk in ahead of me. He stepped inside and I shut the door behind us.

"Shoes, here, coat on the rack." I told him, gesturing to the appropriate places. Should I have offered to take them for him? No, that would have been weird.

"Do you want a towel?" I asked, unsure. Did werewolves need towels? Or could he just shake and dispel all the water?

"Sure," he said again. It was still impossible to read his expression.

I almost ran to the bathroom where I took out my hair-tie, shook my hair loose, and got rid of the smudges under my eyes. I couldn't explain my sudden nervousness - hadn't I agreed that I accepted him for what he was? So why did being totally alone with him make me suddenly so edgy? I almost forgot the towel on my way back to him.

He was still standing exactly where I'd left him.

"Here," I said, handing it to him. He took it, grabbing at the end farthest from my hand.

Had that been intentional?

I watched him dry off his hair, leaving it a voluminous, curly mess. I liked it.

He dried his clothes as much as he could and, once the towel couldn't possibly retain any more water, gave me an apologetic, lopsided grin.

My breath caught. I'd forgotten the dimples that made themselves known whenever Matthew smiled.

"Sorry, I'm still wet," he said.

"What did you do?" I asked teasingly, "Run the whole way here without an umbrella?"

"Most of the way," he said seriously, his grin gone.

I paused.

"You... literally _ran_ here?"

I pictured him running down the street, his legs flying underneath him.

"Yeah, well, normal human paces frustrate me to no end... like the last several blocks I had to walk to seem... normal."

His steady gaze met mine, undoubtedly trying to judge my reaction.

"Oh," I interjected lightly, my pulse quickening.

Of course. By 'run', he'd meant really _run_, at his super speed.

I suppressed the desire to look away.

We stared into each others' eyes; each of us daring the other to react first.

"So what did you want to talk to me about?" Matthew finally asked softly.

"Friday. What else?"

His expression hardened, but remained unfathomable.

"What about it?" he asked stiffly.

"What's your problem?" I asked, suddenly getting angry, "And why weren't you in school today? The least you could have done after dropping on me the news that you did would have been to _show up_ when I expected you to."

Neither his expression nor demeanor changed.

"What? Do you - regret telling me everything you did?"

His lips and eyes tightened. Apparently I'd hit home.

"Oh. I see. You regret it."

I was mostly angry. But I couldn't stop the tears from welling up in my eyes; I couldn't prevent one tear from leaking over the top of my eyelid.

I looked away quickly.

"Are you crying?" I heard Matthew asked, sounding shocked.

I wiped the tear away and faced him again.

"_No!_ Why would I be crying?" I snapped.

"I have _no idea!_" Matthew's expression mirrored his tone, "Aren't you - didn't you - what's wrong with you?"

"What's wrong with _me?_!" I asked, outraged, "What's wrong with _you_? Why do you keep lying to me? You think it's _fun_ to play with my emotions like this? Well - "

"No!" he interrupted me, his expression changing to relieved confusion, "No, wait. I thought - you regretted my telling you all. I mean, I regretted it yes, because now you know. Now you know... you know what a monster I am. And I - hate - myself for it." His expression turned bitter again and he averted his eyes, "As you undoubtedly do."

My anger melted away.

"Wait. I don't - I mean, the reason I wanted to talk to you in the first place, is that - I wanted to tell you that - I'm okay with it. And that I accepted it. And -"

"You _what_?" he demanded, his gaze once again burning my own.

"I accept you for whatever you are."

He groaned, shut his eyes, tilted his head back, and ran his fingers through his hair.

"_What?_ I asked. Isn't that what you want?"

"It doesn't matter what I want!" he said exasperatedly, "How can you be so _accepting_? I shouldn't have expected it from you, should have just left - and left you alone."

"But I am accepting, so what does it matter?"

"That's the point! Even just telling you as much as I did put you in danger! Had you just never wanted to see me again, wanted to stay away - it would have made you safer."

"How so?" I asked angrily, "How am I not _safe_ by knowing these things?"

"Because!" He took a deep, calming breath, his voice lowering again, "Because. There are things you cannot know. You accepted that much. But there's these - people. They've been after my mother since they knew of her, but they have resisted the temptation to hold her - so far - and only because there are more like her. If they even thought that there was a possibility of mine and my sisters existence - well, we most likely would not be here now. Which would have been better. But now that we are, if we are discovered now - you - are in _so much danger_. I know that doesn't make total sense, but I can't tell you more. I've said too much already. I know I won't be able to play the wolf side in this, like I'd hoped... No. I have to leave you, forever."

"No!" I shouted, panic clutching my heart.

He waited.

"I - you can't. Because - I've - ugh! I put myself out there before, I might as well do it now! I have nothing to lose except - you."

"What?" He asked, his eyes narrowing.

"Why would it matter to you whether or not I was safe?" I asked, my voice breaking. The tears were back in my eyes. I was struggling to contain them.

His expression softened.

"Paige," his voice was soft, urgent, and made my heart ache, "Paige, I told you. You mean the world to me - more than the world. If anything happened to you - I wouldn't live through it." His eyes burned as if from pain.

My treacherous tears escaped, silently coursing down my cheeks.

"Well," I said, drawing in a shaky breath, "That's why you can't leave me. I can't explain it, I don't know why, but - I feel the same way." I looked away.

Matthew was silent.

I dared to steal a glance at him after a moment.

His eyes burned more intensely than they had been, his eyebrows were furrowed, and he seemed to be drinking in my appearance.

"Why did I do this?" he whispered, his voice pained.

"Do what?" I whispered back.

"All this is my fault. No matter what I do from here, I hurt you."

"Just stay. Be with me. _Please_."

He shut his eyes tightly.

"I can't make any long-term promises. But yes. I'll stay. For now."

Relief, total, utter, and complete relief overwhelmed me. I was shaking. I had to sit. I looked around - we were still standing in the hall.

"Let's go," I started, "Let's sit down."

"Alright," he agreed.

"This is my living room," I told him as we walked into it, "Make yourself comfortable."

I collapsed onto our dirty old couch. He sat down carefully on the remaining chair.

"I know, it's not the nicest," I explained, "My aunt prefers to spend her money on clothes and such."

He nodded knowledgeably.

"Um. So. You - are going to give _us_ a try then?"

"The rain stopped," Matthew said suddenly, "Wouldn't you rather go for a walk?"

"I - uh - sure." We got up again. Matthew led me to the door.

How had he known about the rain?

**Author's Note: I've changed my mind about the sequel - I think I'll write a 'sequel' which would be from Lorraine's perspective about Lorraine finding love. What do you think? Yes or no? And would you read it?**


	15. The Walk

We grabbed our coats, slipped on our shoes, and exited the house wordlessly.

"So..." I started.

Matthew looked at me expectantly.

"Um. Where did you want to go?"

He shrugged unhelpfully.

"Oooh-kaaaay. Let's just walk in a random direction then."

He smiled slightly, "Alright. Which one?"

"I don't know. Uh - let's go this way," I suggested, picking a route and starting on it. I really didn't care where we ended up.

Matthew fell into step beside me, mulling over his own thoughts in silence.

"So," I tried again, "About before... Well, how about we just forget about the whole conversation? And pretend things are normal?"

He laughed once, bitterly, "Except that I can't forget, and I'm sure you can't either."

"Pretend then."

His earnest gaze met mine, his voice taking on an edge of extreme intensity, "_Can_ you? Can you really pretend so easily that I'm not a monster?"

I glared at him, "You're being stupid."

"How so?" His lips tightened and his eyes flashed.

I rolled my eyes, "I didn't mean that you '_weren't a monster_'."

"What did you mean then?"

"The whole I'm-not-safe-thing. Of course I want to know more about _you_. But let's just pretend that I'm not in danger from those people - or whatever."

"That's not so easy to pretend," he said solemnly.

"_Please_," I asked.

He sighed, "But you mustn't forget that they're not the only people you're in danger from." His voice had become softer, had filled with a deep, guttural sorrow.

"What do you mean?" I asked.

He raised an eyebrow and looked back at me pointedly.

"Oh," I answered, getting it, "You mean yourself, don't you?"

He nodded curtly, avoiding my eye.

"Well - Alright, I have an idea."

He waited.

"Well," I continued, "I was thinking we could have a sort of - modified twenty-questions thing."

His left eyebrow rose again, this time in curiosity.

"Yeah. So, for every question you ask, I get two questions. And we have to answer truthfully, not excluding anything that isn't absolutely vital for me not to know. I'm not talking about information that will put me in greater danger. I'm talking about information that will doubtless get me_ killed_ or leave me _soulless_." I hadn't forgotten his chilling words. While death was one thing I wasn't too particularly scared of, losing my soul somehow was another matter entirely.

I studied his face for his reaction. His expression was thoughtful.

"How come you get two questions for every one of mine?" he asked playfully, the corners of his mouth turning up in amusement.

"Because you have a distinct advantage."

"Which is?"

"You have the benefit of being able to say that not telling me something would kill me. How do I know you're not lying?"

"Fair enough. But don't you trust me?" he asked, his voice teasing.

"No," I retorted.

He winced as if I'd punched him, all traces of teasing instantly gone.

"Just being honest," I murmured, instantly regretting my quick reply, "Setting an example. No matter how much reluctance you have,you have to be _honest_ in this."

"Well, this should be a prime opportunity for me to earn your trust then," Matthew answered quietly after a beat of silence.

"Yes," I answered.

We walked on in silence for awhile.

"You can start," Matthew finally suggested.

I shook my head, "You start."

"Okay - why did you feel the need to clarify this setup - why didn't you just ask your questions right away?"

"I wanted to emphasize the honesty thing."

"Oh," he said, his mouth twisting downward in displeasure, "So it's the trust issue?"

"Uh - uh. It's my turn."

He rolled his eyes and the corners of his mouth twisted slightly upwards in a ghost of a smile.

I hesitated.

"Well?" he asked.

"Can you read minds?" I blurted out.

His eyebrows rose in surprise.

"No."

"Oh." Although I was pretty sure he couldn't, I had to be absolutely certain.

I suppose if he had been able to, he probably wouldn't have waited for me to ask the question.

"And Lorraine," I continued, "Can she...?"

"Yes," he answered steadily, eying me suspiciously.

"Yes?" I asked incredulously.

"Yes. How did you figure that one out?"

"It just seemed like she could. I didn't know for sure, though."

"I wasn't aware that you talked to her that much," he said carefully, and his eyes gleamed.

"I don't," I admitted, "But in the few times I have... well, I suspected it."

"Ah. You're very perceptive then." He smiled.

"Yes, well..." I shrugged.

"What do you eat?" I asked after a moment, curiosity getting the better of me.

"Not humans," he said teasingly, and continued, "I eat the same that you do, mostly. I'm not much for sugar, or overly processed foods. Or bread. I prefer meat, and dairy. And... I like raw meat. The bloodier the better."

I crinkled my nose, grossed out.

He chuckled at the expression on my face.

At least he didn't eat humans; that was a huge relief.

We walked on, silence once again separating us as we each became immersed in our own ponderings.

"It's still your turn I believe," Matthew reminded me after a few minutes.

"Yes."

"Don't you have a question?" his eyes were playful again.

"Yes." I just wasn't sure how to ask him.

"Well?"

"Well - it's just - the other day. You said that I was your - 'singer'. And that that meant that you desperately wanted to kill me. What exactly do you mean by 'singer'? Why does that make you want to kill me?"

I wondered if I was treading on forbidden ground.

His teeth clenched and his breath hissed from between them. His eyes shone darkly.

"I'd rather not get into that," He murmured.

"You have to; you have to follow the rules of the game."

I was walking out on a limb - awaiting the answer in dreadful anticipation.

He sighed.

"So," I continued, my pulse quickening. I took an extra-large step ahead and pivoted around so that I blocked his way. I stopped, "What did you mean?"

He stopped as well. We were a little beyond the end of town now, and the only ones on the deserted road. Dense green forest surrounded us.

"Well," he murmured after a moment, "You smell nice."

I blinked.

"What?"

"You smell - amazing."

I was taken aback.

"Er - thanks - but what does that have to do with- "

"No," he interrupted me, "That's what it means."

That I smelled good?

_What?_

"I don't understand," I admitted, growing frustrated, "How does my smelling good make you want to - " And then it hit me.

"Oh," I said softly, taken aback again.

He sighed, and looked away.

"You mean I smell good as in... appetizing?" I asked apprehensively.

He nodded once, curtly.

"Oh..." I said lightly, letting my sentence trail away. My pulse quickened, but I didn't feel terrified, didn't feel the need to run away. I didn't even feel really scared; I felt a steady calmness settle over me as I watched his fidgeting, ashamed face.

Slowly, slowly, my heart rate declined to a normal pace again, and I felt a rush of affection towards him.

Almost as if he could hear my heartbeat slowing, he looked up and stared me straight in the eyes again, his face becoming incredulous.

"Doesn't that bother you?" he asked, sounding appalled.

"A little," I admitted reluctantly after a moment.

"Only a _little_?" he asked, still shocked.

"Yes."

"_Why_?" he asked, his voice taking on a frustrated edge, "Did you not under_stand_? You smell amazing to me - not just appetizing," he seemed intent on repulsing me, his words pouring from him in his own hoarse, disgusted tone, "_Amazing._ Your smell - if it wasn't for the special connection I'd felt when I had seen your face, I have no doubt that I would have killed you the second you came close enough for your scent to hit me. I could have killed you in less than a second - and I would have enjoyed it. Immensely. The way you would _taste_!" His nostrils flared and his eyes rolled back before he closed them, his words giving way to a guttural, feral moan.

We were both silent. My heart rate increased again.

After a minute, he opened his eyes and stared into mine,his gaze more intense and penetrating than I'd ever seen it, his body and face utterly still. I suppressed a shiver.

"Still," he whispered, "Still, after all this time - you smell just as good now as you did then. It's - physically painful - _not to_ - kill you."

"Then why don't you?" I asked, transfixed.

He flinched, his face twisting in disgust, his eyes returning to their a normal intensity level.

"I couldn't - _ever_!" he said, deeply disturbed.

A small sigh of relief escaped my lips. I was sure it didn't go unnoticed by Matthew.

"I just," he continued, and sighed, "You've successfully wreaked havoc on my life, and transformed me into an emotional wreck you know."

I bit my lip, my eyebrows furrowing in confusion.

He sighed again, "Look. I - as I said before, I feel more strongly for you than I ever have for anyone in my life - and not just in how much I want to kill you, though that is the most intensely I've felt that towards a human too. When I saw you, I knew, instantly, that I was in serious danger of falling in love with you, and quickly. I was - so attracted to you - to everything about you, every hair on your head, every breath in your lungs, every thought in your head. The overwhelming instinct to protect you always, no matter what from -even from me - it took over. I knew that if you died, if you ceased to exist, - the world would cease to have meaning."

My pulse had doubled at least, this news was harder for me to comprehend than that he still wanted to kill me.

I was probably losing my mind.

"How old are you?" I asked, trying to change the subject. I was extremely curious about his answer - it was possible he'd stopped aging after receiving his bite - if that was actually how he'd become a werewolf. Matthew was such an old-fashioned name. As was Lorraine. They were classics - he could be fifty, or two hundred. Who knew?

"You ask difficult questions," he said reluctantly, "But, physically, I'm between the ages of eighteen and - about twenty-two."

"Physically?" I challenged, "How old are you _really,_ though?"

He sighed.

"I have the intellect, emotions, and overall mental development - well - it's higher than most humans ever get. So, my brain can't really be classified by age - I work way differently than a human."

"But how long have you existed on this planet?" I pressed.

"Technically - well, don't be disturbed by this, you promise?" he asked.

He must be_ ancient_. Strangely, that didn't bother me.

"I promise," I said confidently.

"Well - technically - I've been 'on this planet' for... seven years."

I coughed, shock gripping me.

"Seven?" I choked.

I was falling in love with a _SEVEN-YEAR-OLD_?

"Calm down!" he said, alarmed, "Look, I'm not a human, it's not the same as humans! It's not like I'm a seven-year-old, for crying out loud."

It sure seemed like that was the case.

He must have correctly interpreted my dubious look correctly; he stepped closer to me, ignoring me when I shrank back, staking another step so that we were

"Listen, Paige - I am not a little kid. I'm not seven. I'm physically just a little older than you and mentally, emotionally, way beyond the level of any eighteen-year-old. I'm just - special like that. My mom aged even faster, you know. She's technically only been in existence for twelve years. She had me after being in this world only five years. She stopped aging when she'd been here for six. I aged at only half the rate she had, for awhile. Then, one day, I lost my temper at Lorraine. I - transformed, into a wolf for my first time. And then both Lorraine and I suddenly sped up in aging - and, two years later, here we are."

I was breathing more quickly now. He took a step closer again, and this time I didn't flinch away.

He made sense, even though it was weird. He wasn't human, and human rules didn't apply.

I could accept that. It would be hard to get around, but I could do it.

I closed my eyes, took a deep breath, and let it out.

When I opened them again, Matthew was closer than before, so close I could feel his hot breath on my face, feel the heat radiating from his skin.

My breath caught.

I could see every pore in this skin, see every particle of the stubble on his chin. His chest rose and fell slowly, his breathing even and slow. His eyes watched me, thousands of unreadable thoughts and emotions hidden in the deep brown pools. I imagined I could hear his heart beating as fast as mine.

"Why are you so hot?" I whispered, slowly raising my hand and resting it against his chest. It was unbelievably hot. The cold wind blew against my back, cutting through my jacket and hair, creating an almost frightening contrast from the burning in my hand. He was like a heater, warming to be near, hot to the touch. I wanted to be closer, "Temperature-wise I mean."

He shrugged, "Just a weird werewolf thing, I guess."

"Oh."

He leaned in closer. I leaned in as well. His face moved closer, his mouth almost nearing mine, both our breathing accelerating, our hearts undoubtedly in a near synchronized frenzy of beating. Our lips almost met...

"It's getting late," I announced suddenly, turning my head away, ruining the moment.

My heart ached with disappointment. My mouth tingled, reproaching me.

He stepped back, hurt evident on face.

Everything was just happening too fast, there was just too much information to take in so quickly.

"Yes," he agreed softly, "It'll be totally dark in fifteen minutes."

"I'd better get back."

We weren't that far away.

"Yeah. Do you want me to walk you home?"

Yes.

"No. I'll be okay. Thanks."

He nodded curtly, and turned to leave me.

"Will I see you tomorrow?" I asked, trying to keep my voice steady.

"Do you want to?" he murmured.

"Yes." Of course I did. I didn't _really_ want him to leave.

"Then yes, you will."

I smiled slightly.

"Goodnight," he whispered.

"Goodnight," I whispered back.

And then he was gone.

I stood alone, forest surrounding me in all directions, the cold wind whipping around me, massaging my scalp with icy air, my breath freezing in my nose and throat. Just being in Matthew's presence had stopped me from feeling the full ferocity of the early December night.

I shivered, wishing I had brought a hat and gloves, and made my back towards my house.


	16. On The Way To School

It was dark and I was frozen to the bone by the time I bounded up the porch stairs and grabbed the front doorknob. I opened it, and felt the wind rush past me, flooding the house. I stepped in and started to shut the door behind me. Then I paused. I swore I heard, carried in with the wind, the soft ghost of a whisper of the word 'Goodbye'.

I paused and stared out into the black night, shivering in the cold. No one was in sight.

I shut the door slowly and thought of all that had happened, of all that I had learned, as I slowly took off my coat, as I trudged into the kitchen, as I distractedly composed and consumed a cup of hot chocolate. I thought about it all as I climbed the stairs, got ready for bed, and curled up underneath my covers, my body finally thawing.

Despite the early hour, I was utterly exhausted.

The same thoughts swirled, again and again, through my brain.

Lorraine could read minds.

Matthew and Lorraine hadn't existed nearly as long as I had thought. I had existed much longer than them.

And then the most important, the most repetitive thought:

Matthew.

Matthew was in danger of falling in love with me.

He was in danger of falling in love - truly in _love_ - with me.

The thought was enough to set my heart racing each time it occurred.

Was I in love with Matthew?

Love was such a complicated thing. It had so many angles, and there were so many different kinds of it.

There was the shallowest version of love that I felt for my friends - it was the same love I had for my belongings - not deep or sincere.

There was the affection and fondness I had for people like my Aunt, for my brother. I had come close to feeling it towards several boys more than once, but never completely.

There was the deep, painful love I had had for my parents.

And then there was the love that everyone talked about. The one that had you willing to kill yourself, to die a painful death, to suffer immeasurable amounts, if it would help the possessor of your love. It was a love that had you shaking with happiness. It was a love that would take over your life, that gave it new meaning, and joy; it was a love that - should it's subject die or leave - would end your life, and all meaning in it. It was passionate, intense, deep, and reverberating. It was romantic and sexy, and left your heart an inferno of passionate, burning love.

Was that the way I felt about Matthew?

I thought about the way I felt when I was around him.

I was always on edge, my emotions always a mess. I felt overwhelming attraction - not just for his looks - but for _him_, for his soft, gravely laugh, for his mood changes, for his deep, liquid-brown eyes, for his quick temper, for his thoughtfulness, for the way his eyebrows pushed together when he was uncertain of something, for his habit of of rolling his eyes, for his utter masculinity, for his often-present childlike impatience, for his obvious desire to protect me, for how smart he was, for his warm, friendly personality. For his gentleness. For everything about him.

I knew that it was too late for me not to love him; I did. But what kind of love? Was I _in love_ with him?

Whenever I was around him, under the attraction I felt a sense of those oncoming passionate and intense feelings of the deepest of loves. Was it possible that all that was there, just waiting for me to let myself completely go before rushing out and overtaking me?

I knew, instinctively, the answer. Yes. YES! I could fall in love with Matthew. I could fall more deeply in love with him than that I'd have ever thought possible - and it would just take a slight shift in my thinking process. But could I trust him enough, could I take that kind of a risk?

The question tormented me until I felt the heaviness of my exhaustion pulling on my eyelids.

Slowly, slowly, I drifted off to sleep.

I dreamed of Matthew.

* * *

I woke up with the sun the next morning and sped through my morning routine.

I was determined to get to school early, to not waste a single minute with Matthew Black.

A half an hour early than I usually would have, I whipped on my coat, spun my scarf around my neck, slapped on my hat, slung my bag over my shoulder, rushed out the door, and practically skipped down the porch stairs in my haste to get to my destination as early as possible.

I began a brisk walk towards the school.

What if Matthew was there early? I didn't want to miss a single second of potential time with him.

I should have kissed him the night before.

Then again, it was a good thing I hadn't. I wasn't ready to get that far with him yet; I still wasn't sure I could totally trust him.

I sighed, and watched my white, wispy breath dissolve into the surrounding air and shoved my cold hands into my coat pockets.

It was a typical December morning, the air crisp, cold, and tight, making it slightly difficult to breathe. How nice it would have been to have Matthew - warm, smoldering Matthew - by my side.

I wasn't a big fan of the cold.

I watched the small, stately houses as I slowly passed them. I observed the fine layer of powdery snow that lightly dusted the lawns, the sidewalks, and the peoples' parked cars.

Then I froze. One of the cars - a sleek, black car parked on the roadside about twenty feet away - was not covered in snow. Its back windows were tinted but I could see through the windshield just fine. In the driver's seat, looking down as if he were reading something in his hands, was Matthew Black.

My mouth dropped open in surprise.

As if he could somehow sense my shock, he slowly lifted his head, and his gaze flickered only slightly around before settling on me. His face flushed and he grinned sheepishly.

"Matthew?" I asked incredulously, doubtful that he would be able to hear my normal tone through twenty feet of light wind and a car's exterior.

He nodded in acknowledgement of my speaking and gestured for me to come closer.

I walked towards the car, mystified as to what he was doing, parked a block and a half from my house, just sitting there.

"Paige," he acknowledged with a grin once I'd arrived at his now-open driver's window.

"What are you doing here?" I asked him suspiciously.

His body heat was like a magnet, pulling me closer to the car, giving promise of warmth.

"Well," he began hesitantly, "You want the truth I suppose?"

"Of course." I hardly resisted adding a 'duh' to the end of my sentence.

"Well," he continued, apparently embarrassed, "I was... waiting for you."

I blinked in surprise.

"What do you mean?" I asked.

"I was going to swing over to your house and offer you a ride to school since it's so cold out and you have to walk."

"Oh." I said, pleasantly surprised but still curious, "But what are you doing here so _early_ then?"

"I could ask you the same question," he said playfully, his grin more pronounced, "You usually don't leave your house for another twenty-seven minutes."

I was taken aback, and my face must have shown it.

"How did you know that?" I tried to ask nonchalantly.

"Well - since we are being truthful here - I - well, I - I've been sort of... watching you."

"Watching me?" I asked, my pulse quickening.

"Not in a creepy way," he added hastily, "I wasn't watching you undress or anything. Just - well, ever since I lied to you in Dairy Freeze, and you - well - you were chillingly convincing. I completely believed that you hated me. And it sort of - haunted me. I _had_ to see if you were only acting. I - er - followed you home and watched for some sign that it had been an act. I didn't see one. I continued to watch for some sign that our being apart was affecting you in any way, if it was taking even a small fraction of the toll on you as it was me. It was - killing - me. Torturing me. Literally. I had to be with you in some way - and I got curious - so I - well - I continued to watch you."

"That's not in a creepy way?" I asked casually, carefully not letting my face betray any emotion.

"I'm sorry," he said sincerely, "It's just - I wasn't exaggerating. Not being with you, not talking to you - ignoring you - it was agonizing. I don't think you can understand how - panicked I felt. I had to be near you in some way or I'd have lost my mind. And also - ever since the bleacher incident - I've been instinctively overprotective of you. I had to make sure you were safe at all times."

"I see," I said. It was crazy. I ought to have been terrified - or at least appalled that I had my very own stalker. So why wasn't I? Why had Matthew's words only succeeded in giving me a warm, affectionate, and flattered feeling inside?

We stood there in awkward silence for a moment.

"Well," he said awkwardly, "You look cold."

I was cold. The heat emanating from his window only heated so much of me. The rest was exposed to the bitter cold.

"Do you want a ride?" he asked, unsure.

After his admittance, the proper thing to do would have been to say no, to continue walking, and to ignore him. Maybe even reporting him would have been in order.

"Sure," I said easily.

He grinned. A second later he was standing next to me. The car door remained motionless. It appeared not to have moved an inch, much less opened enough for someone to get through. Matthew himself had seemed to dematerialize and rematerialized in his current position next to me.

I stepped back in shock, gaping.

His grin became more pronounced.

He was wearing nothing but a T-Shirt, sneakers, and jeans; he seemed very out of place with the snow in the background, but he showed no sign of discomfort.

"I have _neighbors_, you know!" I retorted, getting over my shock.

"Yes," he said, his grin twitching mischievously, "But they didn't see anything."

"How do you know?" I asked suspiciously.

"Well..." he began, rolling his eyes and motioning for me follow him as he made his way at a normal pace towards the passenger door.

"The people in that house," he inclined his head in the direction of the nearest one, "Are gone. And in that one," he inclined his head again towards the one across the road, "they are both sleeping. The one there," his head indicated the other one that was a close distance on this side of the street, "two people are sleeping and a younger one is frantically searching for something. The rest of the houses are far enough away that unless its occupants were standing, staring out the window, they wouldn't have seen anything. And they didn't."

"How do you know all that?" I asked, transfixed.

He opened the passenger door of his car for me. I got in and he shut it behind me. Another second passed, and he was sitting in his own seat.

"I could hear it," he answered, already buckled into his seat.

I buckled myself in. With the heat cranked, the car was extremely warm, and the seats unbelievably plush and comfortable.

"Hear it?" I asked cautiously.

"Yes. I could hear the tenor, speed, and pitch of the people's breathing, hear the lack of human sounds, and hear the ruffling as well as low grumbling in the houses. I also didn't hear any reaction from surrounding houses at all."

My eyes widened in shock, "You could hear all that?" I gasped, incredulous. He'd told me that his hearing was amazing - but that was unbelievable!

"Yes," he answered matter-of-factly.

"Oh."

He put the car in gear and took off onto the road. I watched the neighborhood speed by now, and unwound and pulled off my scarf from around my neck.

"This is a - er - nice car you have here," I said awkwardly after a few beats of silence. It _was_ a nice car, the nicest one I'd ever seen. The plush black cushions of the seats A screen alternatively portraying a car phone, a radio system, and a GPS covered the front above buttons, a CD slot, and, lower, pop holders.

"Yeah," he said, his mouth turning up into a casual half-smile, "It was a birthday present from my grandparents."

"A birthday present?" I asked, incredulous, "My grandparents sent me Barbie card with ten dollars in it for my last birthday."

He grinned.

"You're grandparents must be filthy rich," I stated bluntly.

"Well... pretty much, yeah," he said, his grin twitching again.

"They really gave you a _car_?" I asked again, just as incredulous.

"I love cars. Well, my dad's a mechanic, I was raised with them."

"Your dad is a mechanic?"

"Yeah, I thought you knew that."

"How would I have known that?"

"Small town."

"Yeah... I guess I should have known it. But you guys are knew here."

"Yep."

"So... does Lorraine like cars too?" I couldn't really see the perfectly-groomed Lorraine bent inside the open hood of a car.

"You kidding? She loves em even more than I do. She drives a car she made herself."

"Really? What, your grandparents don't offer her a car?"

"She didn't want one. She wanted to build her own."

"Wow. I can't really see that."

"No? Why not?"

"I don't know. Lorraine just seems so... I don't know. Not the car-fixing type."

He laughed, "Yes, I'm sure loads of things about Lorraine would surprise you."

We were almost to school now.

"So," I started, changing the subject, "Is it safe to say that we're - you know - _dating_ now?"

'Dating'. Ugh. It seemed like such a meager term to use. Matthew already meant so much more to me than any guy I'd dated before. 'Dating' just meant to me to be 'getting together and seeing how it worked out'. What Matthew and I were doing seemed so much more - permanent, and life-changing.

"Dating. Hmm." he said, pondering it. Was it possible that he felt the same way about our relationship? "Well... do you want to be dating?"

Of course I did.

"Well... yeah, I guess," I said casually.

"Okay then," he said, smiling, "I suppose, yes, you could say that we were dating now."

"Good," I murmured softly before turning away. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw his mouth turn upwards, back into his easy grin.

I smiled to myself.

Who'd have thought, a month ago, that we'd be here?

Matthew and I were dating.

**Author's Note: If you review my chapters, I am way more motivated to update sooner! And, though I really appreciate and am encouraged by your praise, I also love criticism! Remember that it is very difficult to improve if you don't tell me what I am doing wrong, too! Please review! Also, thanks so much for all the reviews I have already received! ~Jade  
**


	17. Before School

**Author's Note: First of all, I'd like to thank Kate for giving me criticism. However, next time I'd really appreciate if you told me what I did wrong, so that I can improve. Please keep in mind that this is rough - I've never taken any classes and this is my rough rough draft... and is this site not for fun?**

**Also, I'd like to give a much bigger thank you to all my reviewers who have been leaving me positive comments & encouragement, and also to my readers for not giving up on me when it takes me forever to update... speaking of which:**

**I'm sorry! My life has gotten crazier and I've had more and more and more to do. For example, right now I have to finish a mini magazine. Then I have to write a colligiate level argumentative paper, write a short paper, and write a long paper and essay analysis for my final exam, I have to read three chapters in a novel, do a pound of accounting homework, and work on catching up on my many calculus assignments. I also need to make up a calculus test and two accounting tests, practice for my many s/e pieces and pick out a forensics piece to start working on. I also have to keep up on AR and other homework, as well as do my semester exam for College English. Tonight I had a chorus and band concert. Tomorrow night I have a chorus lesson after school and then I'm taking senior pictures. The next night I work... and so goes my life right now; I'm sorry, I'm very stressed out and don't have time to be on here much; I included these excuses so you know that I'm not lying and just being like "Eh, I don't feel like writing on here..."**

**Anyway, thanks for bearing with me, and please keep reviewing! I really appreciate it!**

He pulled into the empty student parking lot and parked in the spot nearest the doors.

He parked, but let the engine running.

"So..." he started, casually leaning back from the wheel.

"So."

"We are extremely early."

"Yes," I said, smiling, "We are."

"What did you want to do?"

I had no idea.

"Um. Well, I suppose we could go in, change for gym, and go from there. There's a lot more to do in a gym."

"Yeah," he said agreeably, pausing for a moment, "Let's go."

He promptly got out of the car and walked to the front of it, on which he leaned, waiting for me. I hastily unbuckled and joined him.

We walked towards the school together in silence, Matthew seemingly chewing on some thought. I figured he'd tell me what it was eventually, if it was something important.

"Paige," he said abruptly when we had almost reached the doors.

It seemed I was to be proven right.

"Hmm?"

"What are you doing this weekend?"

"Nothing," I answered quickly. If I had agreed to do something, I would cancel it.

He smiled.

"Great. How, then, would you like to spend the weekend with me? You could finally meet my parents."

I was unbelievably and instantly excited - and, though I didn't know why - suddenly nervous.

And wasn't it a little early in our relationship to meet family members?

Though, I knew, my relationship with Matthew was not normal. I could see where he was coming from; why wait?

"Er - alright," I began hesitantly, "But don't you live with your cousins? Where do your parents live?"

Not that I couldn't get away with leaving the state for an entire weekend.

He grinned.

"I haven't told you? I don't live with my cousins. The 'cousins' are my parents. They just - haven't aged in awhil.e They appear way to young to be parents of eighteen-year-old twins. They look about twenty-six."

I blinked in surprise.

"Oh."

"Yeah," he said, his smile transforming into his wider and familiar grin.

"Well how old are they really then?" Didn't he say his mother had only been seven when she'd had him?

"Well my mother has existed on this planet for twelve years. She had me when she was five, remember?"

"Oh." Five. Even weirder.

"Yeah. And my father is about twenty-nine, in terms of how long he's been here."

"Oh. Wow. Huge age difference."

"Yes - he full-scale imprinted on my mother the day she was born."

I gaped in surprise, "Ugh! Creepy!" I exclaimed without thinking, picturing a fully grown, overly-muscled and menacing-looking version of Matthew staring lustily at a new adorable little black-haired baby girl.

He laughed, "Yes, it probably sounds that way. But imprinting... it's not creepy. It wasn't as if he was attracted to a newborn baby. He just loved her, instantly. The second he looked into her eyes, he knew that the world didn't revolve around the sun anymore; the world revolved around Renesme. He was her brother, her best friend, and, eventually, her true love. It's just an extreme case of the-boy-next-door. They really are, in all ways, soul mates. "

I considered this poetic image, my own assumption fading. The situation still sounded weird... but Matthew's explanation had made sense and had a sweet edge to it. I would have to take time to ponder and get used to the idea later, on my own time. Now was time for Matthew.

"I see," I said carefully, "You seem to know a lot about this - he told you it all?"

"Not exactly." His grin disappeared.

"So... how do you know then?" Was it because - possibly - that that was the way he felt about me? My heart rate took off.

"Well, it's sort of another werewolf thing. We sort of... hear each other's thoughts when in wolf form."

"Oh," I said softly, hit with uncalled-for disappointment and justified surprise.

"You... hear each other's thoughts," I said slowly, the meaning of his words sinking in, "In wolf form." As always when he told me something new and strange about his unique abilities, my heart rate went into overdrive.

"Yes. I know it's weird."

"Mmmhmmm." It was another subject to store away for later examination.

"So," I said, changing the subject slightly, "Your parents. What are they like?"

I was suddenly anxious again; it had been an extremely long time since I'd had to worry about impressing someone, and even longer since I'd tried to win someone's affection. What if they hated me? What if they were exactly like Lorraine? She came from somewhere...

I took a deep breath, and exhaled slowly.

She_ did_ come from them, but so did Matthew. Anybody that Matthew came from, couldn't be bad.

"They're great," he said, smiling, "You'll love them."

I wasn't convinced.

"Why do you want to introduce me so soon? We only started dating today."

"Well, for one thing - I'm itching to proudly proclaim that I have won the affection of the most wonderful girl that ever existed to as many people as possible - and also, they've been dying to meet you."

I laughed, pleased.

We'd arrived at the door to the girls' locker room.

"I'll see you in a few minutes?" Matthew asked, his gaze not leaving my face.

"Um. Oh, yeah. See you."

I backed in through the first door, waiting for him to turn away before turning and darting through the second one. I sprinted to my locker and changed into my gym clothes faster than I'd ever done before. I threw my wintery apparel into my locker and snapped my lock shut before running back to the gym.

I paused to catch my breath before srutting through the door to the gym casually.

Matthew was already there, leaning against the nearest wall, completely dressed for gym, waiting for me.

I sighed, and smiled slightly, shaking my head in bemusement.

A second later he was standing next to me, watching me intently.

He raised his eyebrow in question, but didn't press me.

"I was just amazed - yet again - at the speed at which you can accomplish things," I volunteered.

"Ah," he said, his wonderful grin spreading across his face again.

Suddenly he was closer, so close that I could feel the heat radiating from his skin.

I breathed deeply, and was hit with his glorious scent.

He smelled like nothing I'd ever smelled before; it was woodsy, as if he'd been living in the wilderness, but it had a sweet enticing, and indescribable flavor underneath the woods smell. I instinctively leaned closer, observing the details of his richly-colored skin, inhaling the aroma that was _him_, dying to get closer still.

"So," he started softly, "So."

"So what?" I all-but whispered.

"So, you are going to be with me this weekend."

"Yes." My heart danced at the prospect.

"You can make the whole weekend?"

"Yes."

He grinned, his face only inches away from my own upturned one.

"You really have no plans?"

"None." I grinned back at him. I was pretty sure I didn't, which meant I wasn't lying... and did it matter if I had had plans? I wasn't going to choose them over him.

"I see."

Then a flash of black appeared, and hair hit my face.

I blinked.

"Will. You. _Stop._ That!_ Now_!" A voice, low and menacing hissed at Matthew.

I took a step back.

Lorraine.

She had appeared out of nowhere - apparently having sped to Matthew too fast for me to see.

Matthew stared back at her, grinning.

"Nope," He said lightly, his grin not wavering as her glower worstened.

"I _mean_ it!"

"As do I," his grin solidified and his jaw jutted out stubbornly.

"_Matthew_!" She shot a glance at me and then quickly changed back to her brother, "You_ know_ the risks!"

"Oh come on, Lorraine," he said, "You really think that this is comparable to the usual scenario?"

"Matthew. Stop it," She growled. Actually _growled_!

"Give it up Lorraine. I'm not stopping."

She growled again, but this time it was different; it rose to a higher pitch and was more gutteral, more feral, more ferocious. It was a snarl. She _snarled_.

I stepped back again, indimidated.

"Lorraine. Give it up. You know why. I'll talk to you later."

She shot him look blacker than death.

I shivered.

With an indignant flip of her long black hair, she was gone.

Matthew stared grimly after her.

"What - was that about?" I asked hestantly after a moment of silence.

He looked back at me, surprised, pulling out of a reverie.

"Oh," he said, "Well, it's complicated. Well, not really."

"What?" I pressed.

"You know Lorraine can read thoughts."

"Yes," I acknowledged.

"Well, she can. She can read everyone's current thoughts within a mile or two radius."

Impressive.

"Everyone's..." he continued before I could speak, "Except mine. Mine and Bella's."

"Bella?"

"My - er - grandmother. Unless we let her."

"Ah. So what, she wanted you to let her read your thoughts?"

"Well, not exactly; that's hard to do. But you see, I - like Bella - can also prevent Lorraine and Edward - my grandfather - from reading the thoughts of those around me."

I blinked again in surprise, excitement stirring.

"So Lorraine can't read my thoughts right now? That's what she wants you turn off?"

He smiled, "Yeah. Pretty much."

"So how does that work? Why can't she read your and Bella's thoughts?"

"We're sort of - shields. Um. How do I explain this without saying too much?"

I shrugged, and he sighed, "Well, we - that is to say, _my mother's side_ - we sometimes have these special _gifts_. Some are easy to use for good, like physical and emotional shields. Others are pretty much evil, like causing extreme mental pain. Then there are neutral ones, like mind readers, people that always know if you are telling the truth, that sort of thing. Bella is a mental shield. A very powerful one. She can shield herself and others from any power that involves the mind, like the mental pain, the truth-telling, the mind readers - it's very powerful because so many of Bella's kind have mental gifts. And I inherited that from her, while Lorraine inherited Edward's mind-reading ability."

"I see."

How - overwhelming. More food for later thought.

"Of course, that's just another reason I'm extraordinarily powerful and therefore in extreme danger from the Volturi. If they knew I existed..." his voice lowered to an intense, anguished whisper as his suddenly intense gaze held mine, "If they knew about _us_..." His voice shook, and he looked away.

"What would they do?" I asked insensitively,

"They'd kill you right away," he said bluntly, his voice back to a normal tone, his eyes hollow and staring into mine again, "Most likely. And as for me... Who knows? I'm sure they wouldn't want to destroy me, not if they could force me to join them. They would be unstoppable with me on their side. But if they knew that there was no way... and there _isn't_, they'd probably just kill me."

"Just?" I asked in a tiny voice.

Horror gushed from my lungs, horror at the thought of Matthew, dead; of Matthew, dying. Of a world without Matthew in it. I was having a difficult time breathing.

"Unless," he said, his voice small, anguish present again.

"Unless what?" I whispered. My eyes filled with tears.

How weak of me. Still, at that moment, I didn't care.

A world without Matthew was a terrible world indeed.

"I'm just - " he started, his voice the same anguished whisper, "I'm just afraid that if they find out about me, they'll find about you, and then they'd - maybe - well, I _would_ join them. I would if they took you. Not killed you, but kept you, maybe tortured you. And I wouldn't want to live with myself if that happened, but I'd have to because they'd kill you if I killed myself."

I shuddered.

"These are the things that haunt me at night, in my nightmares," he whispered.

"Let's talk about something else," I suggested, my throat dry. If those were the kind of beings he was dealing with, I wouldn't - and couldn't - blame him one bit for not telling me everything about him.

"Alright," he said, his haunted look dissolving into a more relaxed one.

"That was fast," I commented.

"What?"

"Getting over your - er - " Anguish.

"Paige," he said, smiling ever-so-slightly, "I've lived with these thoughts since I met you. I think them about that stuff all the time. I'm used to hiding it, storing it away for later."

Something I, too, was getting good at.

"Oh."

"I'm sorry," he said sincerely. He reached out his hand and grasped mine, pulling it between us.

"For what?"

My small white hand was utterly lost in his warm, large brown one.

"For telling you all that. You didn't need to know - I didn't want to freak you out."

He did the same for my other hand, and it too, was lost.

"I always want to know.

It felt amazing, as if I had submerged my hands in hot water; it was as soothing as if I were getting a hand massage. Probably more so.

He grinned at whatever my face showed him, and pulled me slightly closer. He raised our hands, slowly, slowly, towards his lips. He inhaled deeply and then his lips, slowly, caressed the back of each hand. His lips were scortchingly hot, leaving a pleasant and tingly trail of heat where they touched. His mouth lingered over them both.

I closed my eyes and exhaled slowly, in total ecstasy.

"People are staring," he murmered against my hand.

I opened my eyes a sliver and saw his grinning eyes staring back at mine over the tops of our hands. I grinned back lazily, still lost in the amazing way this felt.

I looked around a little and noticed that the gym had started to fill up.

It seemed like that happened often.

"Let them stare," I whispered.

"Okay," he said, his grin stretching.

But after a moment he stiffened and was suddenly glowering past me.

"What?" I asked, concerned.

He lowered our hands and shot a sideways glance at me before glaring at an unknown offender.

"Some people should whisper quieter, or just leave certain things unsaid."

I looked to see who he was staring at and was shocked to see Brianee, Nichole, and Heather - a girl I didn't particularly care for but Nichole was friends with - huddled together in the far corner of the gym. Nicole looked over at us at that moment and a momentary look of fear crossed her face as she noticed the look Matthew was giving her. She looked away quickly and their huddle grew tighter as they leaned in closer to each other.

"What are they saying?" I asked, my voice oddly calm considering the utter betrayal I felt.

"It doesn't matter," he answered, looking back at me.

"_What are they saying_?" I repeated tensely.

He sighed, "Paige, I'm all for telling you things, but I'm not willing to repeat their snide comments."

"But Matthew," I started, my anger starting to show, "You don't -"

"I know, Paige, but what does it matter what they think? Is it going to change anything? Your friendship has been tested and they have failed. They weren't good friends. Or maybe they don't all mean it. But regardless, let's get back to where we were, please?"

He started to raise our hands again and I gave in, my anger ebbing.

"But I'm not going to let this go; we are revisiting this later."

He rolled his eyes, "I was afraid of that."

And thus began my week.


	18. A Short Summary Of The Rest of the Week

**Author's Note: You guys are fantastic. Thank you. That is all. :D**

"Do you really _have_ to go?" I asked sadly, getting out Matthew's car, "You _could_ come in."

"Now? I can't. I'm sorry." He did seem genuinely sorry.

I shut his passenger door with a sigh.

"What time do you want me to pick you up tomorrow?" Matthew asked, rolling down his window.

"Um, same time as today."

"Alright. See you then." He grinned, his smile radiant. I couldn't help but grin back.

"Yeah. See you tomorrow."

"We _are_ going to school tomorrow, right?" he teased, his eyes sparkling with amusement.

"Yes. We probably should," I laughed, "See you."

"Yeah, see you."

He pulled away and I stepped back from the curb and walked reluctantly up to my house. I let myself in and - suddenly freezing - immediatly curled up on the couch under a blanket. I closed my eyes and replayed the glorious day in my head.

_"Let's cut school today," I suggested jovially as I buckled myself into the passenger seat of his car Wednesday morning._

_He grinned, "And do what?"_

_I shrugged carelessly, "I don't care. i just don't feel like sitting through eight hours of_ boring _today." Or - more accurately - I didn't want to sit through six class periods _sans Matthew.

_He laughed._

_"What?" I asked. He pulled away from my house, still laughing._

_"It's just - have you done this before?"_

_"Cut school?" I asked, "Nope. Not once."_

_He shook his head._

_"What's so funny about that?"_

_"Well," he started, looking over to meet my curious gaze, his warm brown eyes sparkling merrily, "I sort of figured that would be the case. So you, in all your years of school, have never cut school before. I, on the other hand, in my - what, three and a quarter months of schooling - have already cut school on numerous occasions for variously lengthy time periods. I suppose I just find the irony in the spectacle to be amusing."_

_I smiled, "Well, yes, I guess so."_

_"So, if I'm not going to the school, where am I going to?"_

_"I don't care... I'm sort of hungry." I hadn't eaten breakfast yet._

_"Alright, where do you want to eat?"_

_I shrugged again. I was ecstatic the Matthew was going along with my plan to cut school. No school, and full-time Matthew; it was going to be a great day._

_"Well, you have to decide; I still don't know which places are good and bad."_

_"Okay... I think we should just grab a quick bite and get out of town."_

_"Out of town?"_

_"Well, yeah. We can't stay in Elma; people know me anywhere we'd go, and would know that I was supposed to be in school."_

_"Ah. Of course. So where should we go then?"_

_"Well... I kinda wanted to go to Seattle," I answered hesitantly._

_"Alright. To Seattle we will go!"_

_"But I am _not_ mooching off you; I'll pay for gas and -"_

_"No need," Matthew cut in smoothly, "I've got it."_

_"But - "_

_"Nope. I really do not want your money. Besides, my tank is already full."_

_"Well then I can at least -"_

_"Paige. Let me. Please."_

_Nobody ever paid for anything of mine. I was used to doing it all by myself, and no one had ever let me deny them gas money before. _

_I was used to saving every penny; I had no idea why I was determined to blow my money on a pointless trip to Seattle, but I was determined to do it. _

_Still, it was really nice, and I was touched._

I sighed, flinging my blanket away. The absense of Matthew was taking a toll on me physically as well as emotionally; I was so cold, and the blanket was not helping. I would have to make myself some of my favorite drink, hot chocolate.

I got up and made my way into the kitchen distractedly. I passed the message board on the fridge at least twice before I realized that it was not in its usual state of being blank.

The message board was nothing but a plain white dry-erase board that my aunt and I had used as our primary method of communication for years. Whenever we had some question such as 'Have you seen my fushia V-neck sweater?' or 'Can't go to your performance, busy. Sorry. Next time?'.

Today it read, "What are you doing this weekend? We should hang out and catch up again. Btw, who picked you up for school today?"

I was taken aback. Cynthia had been awake at seven-thirty _a.m_.? Since when?

"Already have plans," I wrote back, "Sorry. And Matthew Black."

I shook my head, mystified as to why my aunt was suddenly being so - personal, and how she'd known that somebody had picked me up.

I wandered back into the living room and curled up with my blanket on a chair this time, sipping my delicious chocolate concoction. I closed my eyes and relost myself in my reveries.

We had grabbed breakfast and gone to Seattle, where - at my subtle suggestion - we'd proceeded to go to the mall. We both found several new books and CDs, and I found a few adorable clothing adornments.

Matthew had been a terrible critic, insisting that everything had made me look gorgeous (I had been extremely flattered despite my frustration at his lack of help) and that none of the perfumes or lotions I picked out smelled that great. He had the better sense of smell; I went along with it.

Conversation had flowed easily and unceasingly throughout the entire day; neither had asked the other any serious questions or touched on subjects regarding his mysterious background, other than a few jokes here and there on my part.

We had talked about the upcoming weekend and Matthew had refused to tell me what he had planned. The only thing I knew we would do was watch movies; I'd guessed and we'd ended up picking out and buying an armful of movies.

It had been a long time since I'd felt so overwhelmingly happy, light, and carefree, and I was still feeling the exuberating side effects.

I smiled to myself.

It had been a fantastic day.

* * *

I had expected Thursday and Friday to go by slowly but was surprised instead.

Thursday morning a new note had appeared on my message board, "Matthew Black?" it read, "We need to talk. What are your plans?"

"Yep," I wrote back, "Friday after school I'm going to Matthew's house for the weekend."

My aunt had never really cared what I did or where I went; as long as she didn't get a call saying I was in trouble, she was content to let me do my own thing. This was the first time she'd expressed any interest in what my plans were.

Matthew picked me up and drove me to school where we continued our cheerful banter of the previous day.

After gym had come to a close, Matthew walked me to my next class and I was shocked to see him enter the classroom with me.

He explained later that he had switched his schedule around a little bit. I wondered when he had done it, and how he had managed it; we weren't allowed to change our schedules after the first two weeks of school. I couldn't complain, however, for Matthew had every single class with me - Lorraine had wordlessly gone to another seat in science and he had taken her place as my desk partner.

Life was great, and the school day flew by.

That night there was another message waiting for me on the message board.

"Wait up for me tonight," it read, "I want to chat. I'll be home early."

I was floored. The last conversation my aunt and I had had had been the night she'd taken me out for dinner and I'd told her about Matthew. It seemed so long ago; like another lifetime. In fact, life had changed so drastically since Matthew and I had started dating, that anything else that happened - anything before or without him in it - seemed surreal and impossibly distant.

I knew in my gut that developing such a deep and strong connection and - well - _dependence_ on another being's existence and willingness was not a healthy desicion to make. But this wasn't a desicion at all; I couldn't stop myself from falling harder and harder every day.

I did wait up for my aunt; she was home by the startling time of nine o'clock.

"Paige?" she asked, slamming the front door behind her.

"Yes?" I answered, getting up to meet her.

"Oh good, you're home - and got my message."

"Yeah..." I started hesitantly, watching her doff and discard her winter aparell, "And what are you doing here? So early, I mean?"

She raised an eyebrow skeptically and led me into the kitchen.

"I live here," she reminded me sarcastically, "What? I'm not allowed to be here?"

"I didn't say that," I contributed hastily, "It's just... unusual. So... why, again, are you here so early?"

She sighed and plunked herself down on a kitchen chair.

Her heavily made up face, very nice clothes, and perfect hair looked nearly as out of place in our dingy plain-jane kitchen as Matthew or Lorraine Black would have.

"And you wanted to hang out this weekend? What's up with you?"

She sighed again, and I got out two mugs and proceeded to make our common favorite chocolately drink.

"The truth is," she started sadly, "It sucks getting old."

"Old?" I laughed, "You're only thirty-four!"

She groaned, "Don't remind me! Paige, when you're thirty-four, you'll understand. It all starts with the marriages; all your friends decide they don't want to go out as much, now that they have a spouse to keep them happy. Well, that's not even that bad, because you can usually find at least a few people to go out with. It's the kids that really mess stuff up. _'The kids have school tomorrow'_, _'I wanna spend time with the kids_', 'blah, blah, blah.'"

"I see," I commented impartially.

"Yeah."

"Shelly," she admitted after a moment of silence, "Shelly and Brad had a kid. Now their lives revolve around it. They were my last steady outgoing couple!"

"What happened to - oh, what was his name - Felipe?"

She wrinkled her nose in distate, "Felipe? Garderras? We broke up like, two years ago." She gave me a look that told me that I ought to have known that.

"Oh." It wasn't my fault she didn't keep me posted, "What happened?"

"Same thing that always happens. That has happened twice since. He wanted to get serious. I mean, come on. Guys used to have _no problem_ with having extremely casual relationships. But now, they agree but change their minds. _They want to see my place_, they want to _meet my family_. Um, no. I warn them beforehand."

"Um. I see. So basically - I'm your last resort?" I asked, unsurprised.

"Well, you are eighteen now, and I'm your legal guardian... but no, you have plans, huh?" A malicious gleam came into her eyes, "Matthew Black? Didn't he _dump_ you?"

I _so_ did not want to have this conversation. I set a cup of cocoa before each of us and tensly sat down in the opposite chair.

"Well, we weren't dating, so no, he didn't. Now we are, and we are very happy together," I answered testily.

That was an understatement.

"I see," she started at me accusingly, "Have you had sex?"

"Um, no."

Sadly, we hadn't even kissed.

"Oh," she said, surprised, her mood lightening. A moment of silence passed before she continued, "I just have to warn you, Paige. Don't put yourself out there. You'll get hurt. Serious relationships are not worth the time, effort, and exertion."

"Okay," I answered, her words echoing in my brain, reinforcing my earlier doubts, "I'll be careful."

"Alright. And I want to meet him. Stop here after school before you go over there."

"_What?"_ I asked, flabbergasted.

"You heard me. We'll eat here."

"Um. First of all, _what?"_

"P_aige_," she reproached me.

"Oh-kay. So A, you are going to be here _right after school_? Don't you have work? And you are going cook? Since when? And since when do you want to meet my boyfriend? Or even care who I was dating? Isn't that _my_ choice?"

"I have the day off tomorrow. So yes, I am. And no, of course I'm not going to cook. I was gonna order pizza, _duh_. And since now. Since I know who you are dating and that he was rude to you before... and since I know his cousins. Yes it is your choice, but I do care... because, again, I've met his cousins."

"What does knowing his cousins have to do with anything?"

"Don't ask questions like that. I'm the adult, and I say he's coming over."

"You just admitted that I was the adult."

"Okay,_ fine_. You live in my house, you follow my rules. I'm going to meet him."

"Fine. But I'm sure his par - cousins, his _cousins_ have dinner planned. We could stop by here to meet you and stay for a little while."

"Fine. I have a feeling that's all I'm getting."

"Yes."

"Well alright then."

"Okay. I'm going to bed." I got up to leave.

"Fine. Good night."

"Night."

I left without another word.


	19. Matthew and Cynthia

I took a deep breath and looked around my small, plain bedroom. For the first time in months, I wasn't going to be sleeping on the plaid-sheeted twin bed. I wouldn't fall asleep staring at the poster of Chad Micheal Murray - which, after seeing Matthew - didn't have me feeling anything anymore. Instead, I would be sleeping somewhere in Matthews house, looking at who-knew-what.

My heart thumped loudly at the prospect.

I slung my book bag over my shoulder and moved the suitcase I was planning to bring that night to the door of my room.

Who knew that packing for one weekend could be so difficult? Matthew still hadn't told me where we were going or what we were going to do, so I'd wanted to be prepared for anything. I'd brought three different pairs of pajamas - one for each night - I'd brought pants and shorts, fancy clothes and casual clothes, extra toiletries, a swimming suit, and every other item I would possible have a use for over the weekend.

I looked at the clock on my phone; Matthew would be here any moment to pick me up for school.

I ran downstairs and threw on my basic winter gear and by the time I opened the outside door, Matthew - looking as overwhelmingly attractive as ever - was waiting for me at the curb.

He got out when he saw me and joined me on the steps leading up to our house.

"Is that all you're taking?" He asked, eyeing my book bag warily, "Do you not want to come anymore?"

"No," I answered, laughing at the worried expression on his face, "I definitely still want to go. And I have a lot more -"

"I can get it -" he cut in, relief flooding his demeanor.

"No, no," I interrupted, "See, we kinda have to make a detour tonight. We have to come back here first; my aunt wants to meet you."

"Oh," he said, surprised.

"Yeah, I know, it came as a total shock. She's never been that interested in my life.

"I don't know why not," he said, grinning his crooked smile and simultaneously causing my breath to catch, "Your life is interesting"

I laughed once, sarcastically, "Yeah right. Trust me; you are the most interesting thing that's ever happened to me."

He rose an eyebrow dubiously but said no more.

"So," I asked brightly for the millionth time as soon as we took off in his car, "Are you going to tell me what your plans for the weekend are _now_?"

"Nope," he said, grinning.

"When are you going to tell me?" I demanded, frustrated.

"I still haven't decided that."

"_Matt!_" I groaned, "You are taking a major risk here. What if I hate what you have planned?"

"I guess I'm going to have to take that risk." His warm brown eyes twinkled merrily and set my heart pumping furiously again.

"So your aunt wants to meet me," he started musingly, changing the subject.

"Yep. I have no idea why; she's never asked to meet a former boyfriend of mine before."

"Former boyfriends? How many of those have you had - just out of curiousity?" he asked carefully, his eyes suddenly guarded, his face suddenly tense.

I laughed, "What, are you jealous?"

"Yes," he admitted, unabashed, his face retaining its tense state.

"Don't worry," I reassured him, "None of them had anything on you."

"None of them? That makes it sound like there's been many..."

"Not really," I mentally thought back; Michael Andrews had been last and before him I'd dated Oliver Jenkins - which had been a huge mistake - and then Jason Kelly and - and - I knew there was one more...

"Four other guys really isn't a lot, and I didn't really have a meaningful relationship with any of them."

"I see," he looked like he wanted to say more, but didn't.

"I'm sorry," he informed me after a few moments of silence, "I just - am - jealous."

I laughed, "I can't say that I've had to deal with a jealous boyfriend before... but seriously, we didn't have sex or anything."

His expression relaxed; I'd apparently hit what had been bothering him right on the head.

Matthew pulled into the school parking lot. Once again, we were the first ones there.

We had just arrived, freshly changed, in the gym when we were joined by Lorraine Black, who made a beeline for us.

"So," she said, approaching Matthew, "You guys are coming right after school?"

"No. We're stopping by Paige's house for a little while and then coming," Matthew answered.

"Ah. Well," she eyed me grudgingly, "I suppose you want everything ready by the time you get there then."

"That would be great."

"Fine."

My curiousity was killing me. He had Lorraine in on it - what ever it was?

"So," I started, grinning, as soon as Lorraine had walked away.

"Nope," Matthew answered briskly, "Not telling."

I laughed, "But - that's not what I was going to say."

Actually, it had been what I was going to say.

"What were you going to say then?" he asked, playing along.

"Just that... Lorraine is in on it too?"

"Yep."

"Not fair."

"Sure it is."

And class began.

* * *

The day flew by, our cheerful banter never ceasing.

At the end of our last class period, the fact that I was going to meet his parents very soon finally sunk in, and neither of us talked much.

By the time we got to Matt's car and got settled inside, my nerves were a crazy mess. What if they didn't like me? I'd never had to worry about impressing people before; this was entirely new to me and had me nearly throwing up with anxiety.

I stole a glance at Matthew; he seemed distracted as well.

He met my gaze and curiousity flickered across his own.

"Are you alright?" he asked concernedly.

"Um," I stated, and shrugged.

"What's wrong?" he asked, his concern growing.

"Just - nervous," I admitted ashamedly.

"Nervous about what?" he pressed, an odd and indistinguishable look coming over his face.

"Meeting your parents. I - I've never had to worry about what people thought of me before."

He paused, surprised.

"Paige," he said slowly, letting my name linger in his mouth, "You're that worried that my parents _won't like you_?"

"Yes," I said sheepishly.

He sighed, and shook his head.

"What?" I asked defensively.

"You're not nervous because you are - not only going to meet, but be in capacity with for an entire weekend - another werewolf and a mythical being that you don't know?"

"Um, well, that didn't really occur to me... but no."

"Well, that's what what you _should_ be worried about. What most people would be worried about," he said softly.

"I guess I'm not like most people," I said, equally as soft.

"That you're not," he agreed solemnly before lightening up again, "But if you're not worried about that, then you have no reason to worry at all; my parents already love you."

"But they don't know me," I interjected, "They can't already have an opinion formed of me."

"But they do. They could never not love someone that I care so deeply for."

"Then that means I have to live up to their expectations," I groand, shutting my eyes and flopping backwards against his seat.

"Paige," he said softly. I felt his hot hand rest against my shoulder.

I opened my eyes to see his, startingly close, staring into mine.

My worries melted away as I gazed into their deep brown depths.

"Yeah?" I whispered.

"Just be yourself, and they'll love that."

"Okay," I agreed, my nerves completely at bay.

His gaze shifted back to the road.

"So," he started this time, "Your aunt will be waiting for us?"

"That's what she said," I said carefully, "But I wouldn't be surprised if she's not there."

"I guess we will find out in a second."

He turned onto my block. Sure enough, there, parked in our little driveway, sat my aunts bright red Honda Civic.

"Wow. She's here," I said, flabbergasted.

"Guess so." He parked.

"Here goes nothing," he said thoughtfully before proceeding to hurry about the car and open my door for me at a brisk human pace.

"You don't have to always do that," I said.

"You don't like it?" he asked, walking me up our sidewalk.

"I didn't say that."

I loved it when he opened my door for me. It was so old-fashioned and gentlemanly.

He smiled. We arrived at the door and both stared at it for a moment. I felt as if I we should knock.

Ignoring my odd and sudden impulse, I opened the door.

"Cynthia?" I called, "Matthew Black and I are here." We began doffing our winter gear when she hurried into view.

Her make-up was pristine, her hair up in a casual-but-still-perfect variation of a messy bun, and her clothes were also casual but very nice. She looked beautiful.

I sighed.

"Aah," she exclaimed dramatically as she entered.

Then she caught sight of Matthew and whatever she had been planning on saying next escaped her.

Her eyes bulged, her jaw dropped, and she froze, staring at him.

I grinned, remembering the first time I'd seen him.

"Hello," Matthew said softly, his voice as sexy and smoldering as ever. Cynthia's features dropped and widened further.

"Cynthia," I started, clearing my throat, "This is Matthew Black. And Matt, this is my aunt Cynthia."

"Oh," she started, jolting back to reality, "Hello. Nice to - er - meet you."

"I'm delighted to meet you as well," he said smoothly.

She blinked in surprise.

"Yes, well... if you'll excuse us for a moment," she struggled to rip her hungry gaze away from Matthew to give me a significant look, "I just need to see Paige in the kitchen for a moment."

"Of course," he allowed.

I followed her into the kitchen.

"Yes?" I asked.

"Paige!" she whispered furiously, "Why didn't you warn me?"

"Warn you of what?" I asked innocently, knowing that Matthew was eavesdropping on our conversation.

"That that boy was so - so - _damn_ attractive!"

"Well," I started, "I guess I didn't think it was that important."

"_Damn,_ girl! I'd have dressed up more if you'd have told me. I mean, I figured he'd be a looker, with his cousins being how they are... but _damn!_ Holy shit!"

"Okay..."

"Sorry. But I don't blame you at all for getting upset before that he didn't want to be friends. Not one bit. I'd have been too. But -"

"Cynthia -"

"Paige, I made tomato soup for dinner and I think I burned it; it doesn't taste right. I don't want to serve it to him. Did you tell him he was coming for supper?"

"No. I thought we weren't."

"Perfect. Don't. You can eat at his place, I won't keep you as long then."

"Okay. Well, he _is_ in the other room..."

"Oh God, yes, we should get back to him. But first, _how_ did you manage to land a guy like him?"

"You have so little confidence in me..." I answered drily.

"Oh. I didn't mean it that way, just... why did he pick you? What did - oh, never mind. I'm jealous though."

"Okay..."

"Alright, alright, let's go back in."

I followed her back into the living room.

"So, Matthew, make yourself at home," she started, not looking at him and gesturing to the couch. We all sat down.

"Where did you say you moved from?" she asked after a few minutes' awkward silence, and looked at him again, instantly becoming lost in his appearance.

I was hit with a pang of extreme annoyance towards my aunt.

"Alaska," he answered matter-of-factly.

"Alaska?" Cynthia asked, surprised.

I was thinking the same thing in a very simular tone.

"Yes. My extended family is from there."

"So what on Earth made you want to move to Elma Washington, of all places?"

"My cousins like small towns. And wanted to move away from the family... I have a large family and they can get overwhelming."

"Ah. Understandable. But if you have such a large extended family, why did you move in with your cousins?"

"Well, my sister and I like small towns too. We were closest to these cousins. And my aunt, uncle, and grandparents are either too old to take care of two teenagers or really didn't want to."

"Well," I cut in, "Cynthia, Matt's cousins are expecting us before too long, so..."

"Of course. But first, tell me Matthew, what exactly was it about Paigie that caught your eye?"

I groaned.

"Excuse me?" he asked politely, "What do you mean?"

"Cynthia, we have to go," I tried.

"Oh, calm down, Paige, you just got here. I just mean... you like her, apparently."

"Yes."

"Why? What is it about her that you like so much?"

"Cynthia- "

"Well," he started solemnly, "I couldn't even begin to cover it all. I mean - all of her, everything about her. I -"

"Look, bud," she interrupted flatly, "I know and you know that you are incredibly attractive. I just hope you realize that that doesn't give you the right to do whatever you want. I know I haven't exactly always been there for Paigie, but I'm afraid she might really fall for you. So I'm warning you. _Don't_ hurt her."

"I don't intend to," he said sincerely. The intense and deeply-rooted candor ringing from every syllable in those four words would have convinced the bigest skeptic on the planet of Matthew Black's honesty at that moment.

I was touched.

"Oh. Well, good."

"Can we go now?" I pleaded.

"Fine," Cynthia responded, "I think what needed to be said has been said."

"Thank you!" I said sarcastically, "I will go get my stuff then."

"I'll help you with it," Matthew said, and followed me to my room.

"Er- okay," I said awkwardly, embarrassed at the previous conversation and the shabbyness and uncleanly state of my room. I flipped on a light and gestured towards my luggage.

"Would it look weird if I took it all?" he asked teasingly.

"Yes. I'll carry some too." I smiled slightly.

We each grabbed a bag and proceeded to exit the house.

"Goodbye Cynthia," I called right before exiting, expecting her to hear from wherever she'd gotten away to.

"Paige, hang on a second," she said, popping into view. I suppressed another groan.

"Yeah?"

"Nice to meet you again, Matthew," she said pointedly.

"You too, Miss Hayes," he answered seriously and nodded.

"Call me Cynthia. Miss Hayes sounds old," she said and attempted to give him a pointed look, but - due to the fact that she was more drinking in his appearance than sternly glaring - it kind of failed.

He took the hint anyway, "I'll put this stuff in the car. I'll be waiting for you," he told me.

"I'll just be a second," I answered, and watched him go out into the cold.

I slipped on my scarf.

"Paige," Cynthia started, "Damn. I don't know how you managed - well, just be careful. A boy like that would be hard even for me not to fall for. Don't put yourself out there."

"Okay, Aunt Cynthia. I'm going now. See you later."

"Goodbye. Good luck."

"Thanks."

I left the house without another word.

"Here," Matthew said, taking the bags from me, "I'll put this stuff in the back too. It's cold out here; you can get in, I've got the heater going."

"Thanks," I answered and threw him an extremly grateful look. I think he understood that it wasn't just pertaining to the luggage and heat.

He smiled.

My aunt must have been watching out a window, for he put the bags in the back and got in the car at a very human-like pace; I was already buckled in and waiting.

He pulled away from the curb carefully.

"Matthew -" I started. He looked at me, waiting for me to start, "I'm so sorry. I had no idea that that was going to be so bad."

He laughed, "It wasn't bad. Your aunt is... very intriguing."

"Ha! Yeah, okay."

"She is," he insisted, laughing more.

"Well, whatever. But you know, I really have to thank you."

"For?"

"For saving me from ending up like her."

"What do you mean?" he raised an eyebrow curiously.

"I mean that - if it wasn't for you - I would have ended up exactly like her, living a virtually identicle life. Who knows, maybe my little brother would have had a daughter and then died with his wife in a car crash, springing the little girl on me. Then our lives would be scarily simular."

"So your aunt is your father's brother?" he asked, confused.

"No, she's my mom's."

"That would explain the different last names... What's his name, anyway?" Matthew asked suddenly.

"Who's?"

"Your little brother's."

"Oh. Jesse. Jesse Turner."

"I see. I didn't know that."

"Well, now you do."

"Yes. But anyway, I don't think you would have ended up like your aunt."

"Oh, I'm sure I would have. I was already well on my way there."

We turned onto a small secluded road leading into the woods some distance from my house; I'd honestly never been on the road before.

"How so?" he demanded.

"Well, we both have this... tendancy. I used to think it was because of my parents' deaths, but I don't think so anymore. I think we just both naturally tend to push people away. We both are afraid to get to close to anyone."

He was silent for a moment, "You're afraid to get close to people?"

"Too close, yes. Too afraid to really let myself care for people. We both have an acute ability to shut people and feelings out and and away."

"Which would explain - before. When we weren't - er - talking."

"Yes. I shut you and all emotions with you, out."

"Just like that?"

"Yes."

"You're lucky."

"How so?" I asked incredulously.

"I could never do that."

"Well... you won't have to."

"I think you would have fallen for someone, though."

"What?"

"If I had never come along. I think you'd have fallen for someone eventually; you'd have let them in."

"No. Cynthia still hasn't fallen for anyone. I probably wouldn't have either. It took someone extraordinary to penetrate my shield."

He grinned lazily, shrugging off my compliment.

"Are you really from Alaska?"

"I did live there before we moved here; yes."

"Why Alaska?"

"It's much less populated, and therefore much easier to keep curious people from the knowledge that two children were aging at an impossible rate."

"Aah, I see. So... are we almost there?"

The value of the task at hand hit me once again, and my nerves returned as well, though not as badly as they had upon the departure from school.

"Almost," he murmered.

"You live a long ways out of town... away from everyone and everything." Matthew had been speeding this entire time, and all I'd seen on either side of this spindly little road for awhile had been solid forest.

"We can be ourselves out here," he said, "Away from prying eyes."

"That makes sense. And it's beautiful."

"Here," he said, "It's just up here."

The road curved around to the right and - on a path I didn't see before or after we took it - we made our way up the long winding driveway, and followed it for what seemed like forever.

Finally, we pulled up next to what was undoubtedly the most extravagant house I'd ever seen in my life.

My heart rate kicked into overdrive.

**Author's Note: Please, review!**


	20. The House

**Author's Note: Wow. I realize that I haven't updated in forever and I'm really sorry (although I know I say that a lot). I didn't think it'd be possible, but my life has only gotten about 20x crazier than it was the last time I gave you a little update; I'm sorry. **

**I would also like to say THANK YOU for being such patient readers and putting up with me, and thanks for the positive reviews! If not for them, I would have postponed this update even more. You guys make my day! **

It was huge and immensly old-fashioned, despite evidence of being brand-new. It looked as if it had come straight out of the book _Gone With The Wind_; it was white, at least three stories high, and complete with large white stone pillars strung with ivy in the front.

"Renesme - my mom - loves history and old-fashioned things," he explained, "Hence the house and even our names."

I laughed breathlessly.

Matthew hit the button on a remote and a garage door opened. I hadn't even _noticed_ the huge five-car garage until it the motion of the door had caught my attention. We slowly pulled into it and I was blown away; three other fancy, expensive cars and a boat inhabited the other spaces in the full and new-looking space.

"Wow," I said.

"What?" he asked innocently.

"I thought you said your dad was a mechanic?"

"Yes... but my mother is a doctor. And we - sort of - came into money as well," he answered, trying to shrug off the conversation.

"I didn't know your mother was a doctor. And what do you mean _'sort of came into money'_?"

"Well, I was sort of born into a rich family."

"Oh. Okay."

He hadn't ever mentioned that before, though I suppose I was stupid for not making the connection between his car and the nice clothes him and Lorraine always wore. The bits were just now falling into place.

"Well," he said, shutting the engine off, "Shall we go inside?"

I took a deep breath, and felt my nerves flutter again. I closed my eyes tightly, "I guess," I whispered.

"Paige," Matthew murmered in my other ear; he'd gotten out and opened my door for me in record time and was now close - very close - to me. I jumped. Would I ever get used to his ability to instantly transport from place to place?

"Yeah?" I whispered, opening my eyes a crack. There he was, his perfect face mere inches from my own. I looked over his celestial features and wanted to cry. My aunt had been right; how _had_ I managed to land a guy like Matthew Black?

"Just be yourself," he murmered, his voice soft, low, sexy, and persuasive, "They'll love you."

I tried to resist believing that was true, but I couldn't _not_ believe him when he talked like that, in that voice.

"Okay," I whispered again, and felt my fears - once again - melt away.

He took my hand and pulled me to my feet; somehow I'd become unbuckled.

"We can go meet them first and have dinner, then come out and get your things," he suggested. I agreed and he led me to their door. Even the garage door and its doorframe looked expensive.

I swallowed, and my hands shook.

He opened the door and led me, still holding my hand securely in his, into the house.

I gasped. The entryway was the epidome of extraordinaire - several stairs laiden with stone-style tiles led up and gave way to a hardwood-floored symphonic masterpiece of living room furniture. A huge and immensley extravagant chandeliear hung from the detailed cealing which towered at least fifteen feet above the floors. A grand piano in the far corner perched majestically on its own stage-like pedestal. A lavish, carpeted spiral staircase crept up to the unknown across the room from the muscial masterpiece. Tan, beautiful sofas semi-faced each other in front of a huge stone fireplace. A glass coffee table decorated with a quaint floral arrangement appeared to hover over a tan, cream, and white rug, complimenting the cream-colored streaks in the tan, beige, and white stones of the fireplace. A huge and intricate display of pictures and plants filled the shelving units above the hearth. The entire back wall of the room appeared to be made entirely of glass, displaying a breathtaking view of the forest and creating the peculiar illusion of being immersed in the deeps woods whilst still dwelling in the grandeur of the house itself. Dark wooden double doors on the adjacent wall marked the front door.

I'd expected him to have a nice house, I guess; I hadn't really imagined what it would be like, but not even in the farthest reaches of my subconciousness would I have imagined it to be _this_ grand.

"Renesme, Jacob, Lorraine," Matthew called just slightly louder than his normal speaking voice, "We're here."

The figures appeared so suddenly from around a corner that I was pretty sure they'd already known of our presense.

I gasped again, and found it suddenly very diffucult to breathe normally.

For the second time in my life, I was shocked at the perfection in someone's appearance. I'd never in my life felt so self-concious as I did in the presence of Lorraine... and now this woman.

The woman that had to be Renesme Black, Matthew's mother, stepped forward first, a warm smile beaming accross her face.

She was gorgeous. Lush, beautiful rings of bronze-colored hair lay in perfect, intricate waves down her back. It was Matthew's hair, but beatiful and feminine. Her eyes - Matthew's eyes - looked me over, long, perfect lashes framing their deep brown sparkling depths. Her skin was perfect and smooth, and the same creamy snow-white as Lorraine's. What made this woman's complexion so much more beautiful than the latter's was the slight and very becoming flush in her cheeks, suggesting a warmer aura about her. Her features were celestial; small, petite, and soft, in an adult way.

Then the man - Jacob Black - stepped forward, and the missing pieces in the siblings appearances were answered. I felt my eyes widen. He was tall; he was about the same height as Matthew. Matt had the same large hands and muscles, the same sharpness of jaw and intense shape of the eyebrows. Lorraine's intense, sharp features came from him; as did Matthew's, though Matthew's were somewhat softened by those of his mother. Jacob was not nearly as perfect-looking as the rest; he seemed slightly out-of-place among them, but some strange part of him fit in more completely than the rest. The feeling was hard to discribe.

"Paige," Renesme announced affectionately, her eyes glimmering merrily, "It's so nice to finally meet you!" Her voice was even more musical than Matthew's. I felt as if I should applaude.

Based on the loving expression on her face, I half expected her to launch herself at me in a hug. Instead, she held out her hand, and touched my elbow welcomingly.

_You're very welcome here._

I jumped. The words had popped into my head of their own accord, and in a voice not unlike that of Renesme. I certainly hadn't thought them, yet they'd resounded solely in my brain; I was sure of it.

Matthew's hand squeezed mine reassuringly.

_"Matthew_," Renesme said slowly, turning her now-full-of-reproach gaze on him, "Did you not -"

"No," he answered, smiling slightly.

"Whyever not? She knows about -"

"Yes."

"But -"

"It never came up, I guess."

The vagueness was killing me.

"_What_?" I demanded.

Matthew's eyes now possed the sparkle that had been in Renesme's moments ago. He grinned.

"Renesme," Lorraine cut in unexepectedly, "Has the opposite of my little gift." I blinked in surprise. Lorraine's tone had been - decent. Friendly even. It was the nicest she'd ever talked to me.

_Why?_ Then the meaning of what she was saying penetrated my skull.

"Wait..." I started, "What do you mean?"

"Lorraine reads thoughts, anybody's thoughts," Matthew explained, "Renesme puts thoughts into people's heads."

I didn't know what to say. Would I ever get used to the weird things this family could do?

"Probably not," Lorraine answered, smirking.

I jumped and shot a stern glance at Matthew. Wasn't he supposed to be keeping Lorraine out of my head?

"Sorry," he said, "I was curious. I swear I won't let her in again."

"And now I can't hear you anymore," Lorraine verified, and sighed rejectedly, "_Annoying_ as that is."

"Well, most of us can't hear anyone ever," Jacob reminded her. I jumped again. They probably all thought I was spastic. It was the first time I'd heard him speak; his low was impossibly low and I saw where the sexy edge came into Matthew's voice.

"Well," Renesme chipped in cheerily, "Time for supper."

Matt grinned and squeezed my hand again. Despite my lack of apetite, I was immensly curious; what did a family of werewolves eat for dinner?

We followed her bouncing red curls around a corner and I felt myself gasping, once again, as I stepped right into a magazine-like kitchen of perfection, complete with a full-blown fiest and fancy napkins.

"Wow," I breathed.

"You like it?" Matthew asked, "Renesme designed it, with the help of a few other relatives. They designed the whole house."

"It's - amazing."

"I'm glad you like it, dear." The sparkle was back in Renesme's eyes.

"Well, enough chit-chat; let's eat!" Jacob announced merrily.

We all grabbed and filled our plates and filed around a large, elaborate dining room table, Matthew attempting to shoo away my hesitancy the entire time.

"So," I said quietly to Matt once we were seated, "Chicken, mashed potatoes, corn, and gravy?"

"Yes," he said smoothly, not looking me in the eye.

"That's my favorite meal," I commented matter-of-factly. Not to my surprise, this didn't appear to be news to Matthew.

"And?" he asked, raising an eyebrow in amusement.

"And... I think you knew that."

"I did."

"How?"

"You told me."

I blinked. I was certain I had never told him that this was my favorite meal of all time.

"Yes," he prompted, "Ages ago. A few days after we first met, when I was determined to know more about you and asked you all those questions. I asked you what meal you would choose if you were forced to only eat that meal for all eternity. You chose this."

The vague memory stirred somewhere. I was touched that he'd remember a tiny detail like that, and sat in silence for a moment.

"So, Paige," Jacob started, "You live with your aunt?"

"Um, yes."

"And what's she like?" Renesme chimed in, "We should invite her over sometime."

"Oh, um, that's - er -"

"Maybe," Matthew cut in smoothly, winking at me, "But we can discuss that at a later date."

"Oh, alright then," Renesme answered softly.

"This is delicious!" I told her animatedly after trying my potatoes; it really was amazing.

"Why thank you," Renesme answered warmly.

"You're not eating any?" I asked unthinkingly, noticing Renesme's empty plate.

"Oh, I'm not hungry. I already ate."

"Oh. So you made this all, and you're not even going to enjoy it?"

"No. I love to cook, but am not a fan of my own cooking," she grinned.

"Your cooking is amazing, Renesme," Jacob told her, "I think I would die without it."

She laughed her musical laugh.

The thing that astounded me most about Matt's home life was the utter and obvious _love_ and deep connections his family had for each other, and the happiness he was constantly surrounded by. The affection and happiness, in fact, that I was suddenly met with. I couldn't get past the illusion of being in the middle of a magazine; the perfect, smiling family sitting at their perfect dining room table. It had been many years since I'd felt so - _cared for_ - and the sudden onslaught of emotions was overwhelming. Part of me wanted to back away, to distance myself. Another part of me wanted to stay forever, and knew that going back to my usually empty house would never be the same again.

Amiable conversation flowed throughout the dinner. Jacob and I were the only one's who ate potatoes and corn; Lorraine and Matthew ate only chicken. I couldn't believe how _much_ chicken Jacob and Matthew were capable of eating.

"Well," Jacob announced, wiping his face on the golden cloth napkin, "Matt, why don't you give Paige a tour of the rest of the house?"

"Be happy to," he said, and turned his grinning face to mine.

"Shall we?" he asked, standing and extending his hand to me.

I took it, grinning, and let him pull me out of my chair.

"Sure," I answered brightly.

He laughed at my enthusiasm and led me out of the kitchen back through the exquisite living room.

"You've already seen this," he informed me matter-of-factly.

"I have," I acknowledged.

"But," he started, pulling me past the grand piano stage down a grand hallway I hadn't noticed before, "...you haven't seen anything else."

"True," I stated, and then gasped at the next room we found ourselves in.

It was a library. A huge library. The glass wall continued from the hallway, but the other three walls were covered in shelves of books upon books, minus a large window on the otherside of the room, under which lay a very comfortable-looking window seat.

"Wow," I breathed, "I don't like to read... but this room might make me want to reconsider."

He grinned again, "We all like to read and can read fast - we've got to keep it interesting."

"I see."

"Well come on then," he said, pulling me along the glass wall and through an unnoticable door.

I didn't even bother gasping this time. The glass wall continued, and wrapped around the other walls. I'd call it a sun-room, but it had a ceiling and the view was of the forest. Lush sofas furnished the rooms, and a large green rug adorned the hardwood floor.

"A bit unneccessary, I know. We never use this room; we just go outside."

We circled back around to find a crystal-clean kitchen and no sign of the rest of his family. We ascended the staircase.

Matt took me through unbelievable room to unbelievable room. He showed me an office, a music room, a home theater, and an entertainment room before bringing me up another flight of stairs.

"Our bedrooms are on this floor," he explained, "I'll show you mine and the one you'll stay in..."

His bedroom was small, and cozy. Navy blue walls and a gray-carpeted floor held a twin-size bed, a television, and several books and movies strewn about the floor.

"It's not the cleanest..." he started apologetically.

"Or the biggest," I teased.

"I like it cozy," he said defensively, "My closets in there." He motioned towards a door in the wall.

"Ah. It's cute," I said honestly.

"Well, now to see your bedroom," he said, grinning, "I think you'll love it."

I was sure I would.

He led me across the hall and opened the white double doors.

I couldn't resist letting out another gasp as I beheld the space within.

The walls were creme, white, gold, and very intricate. A huge queen size bed decorated with a flowing canopy of the same color scheme dominated the scene. At its foot lay a quaint little loveseat. A flat screen television donned the wall above a beautiful stone fireplace.

"Bathroom and closet," he said, motioning for me to explore on my own. He could hardly contain his grin, "I'll be right back,"

I turned around to ask him where he was going, but he was already gone. I shook my head in amazement. This was how they treated guests? I'd had no idea of the extent of the richess that Matt's family possessed.

Then he was back, my luggage in tow.

He set them down easily on the loveseat.

"Well?" he asked, "Did you explore?"

"Uh... yeah," I lied - I'd do that later, "So... wow."

"Wow?"

"Yeah. This is - amazing."

"Glad you like it." His eyes sparkled.

"What time is it?" I asked softly.

His image seemed to flicker for a moment before he answered, "Quarter to eight."

"So," I said, stepping closer, "What are your plans for tomorrow?"

He shook his head, "Still a surprise. And I thougth we'd have time to watch a movie, but I guess that's going to have to wait until tomorrow. I'll leave you to get settled then...?"

"Oh. Um, okay... So then do these plans involve awakening early?"

"Yes."

"Ah."

Matt inclined his head, "Well, if you don't need anything... goodnight then."

"Goodnight," I whispered, but Matthew was already gone.

I plopped down on the bed and sank into its fluffy depths. Wow. I doubted I would ever get off of the heavenly mattress again.

But I still hadn't explored the bathroom, and I had to go, so I eventually pried myself out of it and towards the adjoining bathroom. A luxorious-looking, stone hot/bathing tub sat in the corner, unlit candles decorating its ledge. A double vanity sink area covered the space opposite the tub. I used the porcelain toilet and started a bubble bath without further ado.

I took my time prepping for bed, enjoying the petty luxories I was offered, and climbed into bed around nine-thirty.

I couldn't sleep; even the rediculous comfort underneath me couldn't take my mind off the fact that Matthew Black was sleeping just acoss the hall.

It took forever for me to finally, finally drift off to sleep.


	21. His Surprise

**Author's Note: Well, I've finally graduated! (Holy crap, I've graduated! Where'd the time go?) Anyway, now I just have work, civic band, internet malfunctions, and other little things to prevent me from updating... in other words, they should come sooner! Thank you all for waiting so very very long! Please review!**

I awoke with a start early the next morning; hints of the sun were just begining to peek though the thick curtains.

I sighed, unwilling to move, loving the warm embrace of the plush cushion under and around me, sucking me futher into the lavish layers of comfort. I let myself relax into it again.

I had never lain on anything so comfortable in my entire life.

I closed my eyes and thought about drifting back into another delicious sleep, but my mind was already way too awake to make any progress in that regard.

Matthew had said that we'd be off to an early start today; what could he possibly have planned?

I looked at the clock on the opposite wall. Six-ten a.m. No doubt _way_ too early for Matthew's activity.

Even so, I needed to get ready; I wanted to look my best when Matthew saw me and so planned to be fully groomed by the time he came looking for me.

I pried myself out of bed reluctantly, the thought of Matthew in the next room the only factor motivational enough to make me move. I opened my suitcase and dug through the various attire I'd packed. What sort of thing should I wear? I still had no idea what we were doing. How frustrating.

I shut my suitcase again in discouragement and grabbed my bag of toiletries instead. After slowly washing my face, brushing my teeth, putting on my usual light touches of makeup and dash of perfume, and running a brush through my hair, I could delay it no longer and planned to semi-dress up. _Better safe than sorry_, I figured. I'd just lifted the lid on my suitcase when a light rapping sounded on my door.

"Paige?" Matthew's voice, soft and sexy, called quietly through the door, "Are you awake?"

Like he hadn't heard me moving around. Was it sad how my heart still ached with emotion when he said my name?

"Yeah," I answered, glad I had had enough time to prepare myself before he'd come.

I rushed to to the grand doors and pulled them open.

There Matthew stood, no doubt not having groomed himself at all, yet looking as sexy and overwhelmingly attractive as usual. He was already dressed, and in a nice pair of jeans and a tee shirt.

"Good morning," he greeted me, his warm eyes smoldering, a large grin spreading across his face.

"Good morning to you too," I answered, smiling in return. I gestured for him to join me in the room, "So, are you going to tell me where we're going, so I can decide what to wear?"

"Not yet," he said, his grin widening.

"Not yet? _When_ then?" I asked impatiently.

"How about after breakfast?" he asked, his grin fading slightly.

"Oh. Um, alright."

"You don't have to get dressed 'till after that, if you don't want to. It's all ready."

All ready. Already. Wow. His family sure were early risers.

"Okay," I said jovially, and followed him downstairs. The conversation flowed awkwardly between us; Matthew seemed reluctant about something. Maybe he was worried that I wouldn't like his surprise. His worry was pointless; I knew that whatever he had planned, I would love.

A T-shirt and jeans. Where would we go in a T-shirt and jeans?

We entered the kitchen and were met with a spectacular breakfast feast equaling the spledor of last night's. Freshly-made sausage, pancakes, eggs, strawberries, blueberries, powdered sugar, butter, cinnamon, orange juice, and milk lay in a delicious-looking array on the counter, stirring up a sensational aroma. My mouth watered.

"Good morning Paige!" Renesme called from behind us, coming into the kitchen.

"Morning. It looks delicious," I proclaimed, gesturing towards the food.

She grinned.

"I love to cook and all," she said merrily, "But the credit to this meal goes entirely to Matthew. He insisted on making you breakfast. I wasn't going to refuse."

I blinked in surprise and turned to Matt, whose grin was back in place, but only half as heartedly as before.

"You weren't going to tell me that, were you?" I accused.

"Absolutely not. But, you might as well enjoy," he picked up a plate, "And what would you like for breakfast this morning?"

"I can get my own," I answered, grinning.

"I know," he said playfully, "But humor me."

"Alright," I said, and chewed my lip thoughfully, "Pancakes and sausages with syrup. And a glass of iced orange juice."

"How do you like your pancakes?"

I smiled, "A thin layer of butter, a dollop of syrup, and four each of strawberries and blueberries on top.

He flickered ever-so-slightly, and two pancakes and four of the little sausages, glazed in syrup with the appropriate fruitful attire appeared on the plate. A glass of iced orange juice materialized in his hand. His grin widened gain.

I shook my head and laughed, noting the missing items in the counter's still-abundant food supply.

"You know I think I'm getting used to your super-speed thing," I announced.

"Really?" he raised an eyebrow, his eyes suddenly gleaming mischieviously.

"Well-" I cut in quickly, "Sort of. Still working on it."

"Mm," he acknowledged, letting it go.

We made our way to the table and sat down, another heavily-laden plate of food quickly appearing in Matthew's arms.

"So," I started, stabbing and biting off a sausage, "Aren't you going to at least give me hints as to where we're headed today?"

He sighed, "Alright." He rolled his eyes, the corner of his mouth turning up in a smile, "I guess I'll just come out and tell you already, before you get your hopes too high. I only hope you won't be disappointed."

"Doubtful," I said, instantly excited, and began eating a little faster in my angst.

"Well... I was just thinking that we could hit the trails and sort of go on a hiking trip - I packed a picnic - and well - I know this spot that's not exactly on the trails, but I think you'd like it and I could - maybe - if you wanted - show you - ahem - some more of my other side."

_Disappointed_. He'd thought it possible for me disappointed at _that_? It sounded like an amazing day awaited me; hours together, just us two, removed from the rest of the world, submerged in the natural beauty of the forest in a secluded, romantic picnic; these were the potential elements of a fairy-tale day. Maybe we'd even kiss this time.

"What -" I began, confused for a second as to what he'd refered to as his 'other side' before realization hit me. My heart began to thud painfully.

"You mean - " I began, lowering my voice instinctively, "You mean your - wolf side? Or - ?"

"Yes," he said hesitantly, "I could - phase - for you - if you wanted. Only if you want."

"Phase. What do you mean, '_phase_'?"

"Change into wolf form." He sighed, averting his eyes.

I was speechless. A part of me had completely put the fact that Matthew was not entirely human, that he was some unique blend of mythical creatures - and a werewolf - out of my mind, shoved in into unimportance so that I could view him subconciously as merely the best guy that ever lived. I knew that that part - the larger part of me - didn't care about any wrong he ever could have done, about anything that meant he wasn't good, and I'd become so preoccupied with disregarding that angle that I completely forget that a bad Matthew was even a possibility. I knew that the love I felt for him was unconditional, but now the significance of his otherworldly traits bombarded me, bringing with it immense curiosity and burning desire to fully know everything about them, everything about _him_. I wanted to be close to him more than I'd ever wanted anything in my life.

"We don't have to," Matthew said - incorrectly interpreting my hesitance as dismay - his eyes casting themselves downward, "We could go to Seattle or something again. That was fun."

"No, no," I said quickly, "I want to go. Hiking. I think it sounds amazing. And I want to see you - _phase_."

He looked up in surprise, a shy smile creeping back onto his face.

"Alright then," he said softly.

I began shoving food into my mouth at twice the rate I had before.

"What are you doing?" he asked, amused.

"Eating quickly so I can go get dressed, now that I know what I'm dressing for."

"Ah," he said, chuckling quietly to himself.

I finished and stood up quickly.

"Be right back," I announced, setting my dishes in their sink. I ran upstairs to the bedroom I'd stayed in and rifled through my clothing options. Hiking. Of all the scenerios my mind had come up with, _hiking_ had not occured to me. I finally settled on jeans, a T-shirt, and a sweater, and scrambled to get dressed and meet him downstairs.

"Ready?" he asked, his brown eyes unreadable, a small bag now strung over his shoulder.

"Yes," I announced, trying to sound as cheerful as possible.

The corner of his mouth turned up in the ghost of a smile.

He motioned for me to follow him, and started towards the well-hidden glass patio door at the other end of the kitchen. I followed.

He slid it open and we stepped through the portal into the picturesque painting that was the intererior view.

The welcoming earthy moist smell of the forest enveloped me and I turned to see Matthew with his familiar, heart-stopping grin plastered across his face. There was no sign of a trail; only a greater expanse of woods met my eye.

He took my hand, his grin becoming even more pronounced, my hand shielded from the chilly morning air of early spring.

"I hope you don't mind," he started, "If we deviate from the trail. Trails never take you anywhere _interesting_."

"I don't mind," I conceeded breathlessly, my mind blown from the beauty and perfection that composed my entire surroundings; that of the exquisite forest and of my companion.

We walked a short way in total silence, the trees closing the distance between us and his house, making us totally alone. We were far from any eavesdropper, any passerby... we were totally and completely alone together, surrounded by wild and natural wildlife. It was exciting.

"So," he started after a bit, "You were nervous about meeting my family...?"

"Yes," I said, laughing, "Foolishly so. You were right."

"Of course I was."

"Well, I knew Lorraine and you, and that was all I had to go off of."

He laughed and shifted the position of our hands so that our fingers interlocked.

My heart beat a little faster.

"Your mom is great," I said, "So nice."

"Yeah," he said, a tender look coming into his eyes, "She's definitely the greatest mom anyone could want. She's extremely patient, self-sacrificial, and incredibly intelligent. A little over-protective, but that's expectable."

My heart was warmed.

"Sounds like you're close."

"Well, yeah. We're a pretty close-knit family. You sort of have to be when your family are the only ones that know all about you."

"Ah. Yes, I suppose that's true. And your dad..."

"Yeah?"

"He seems pretty..."

Hot.

"Yeah?"

"Well, awesome." I saw where Matthew's intense muscles, sharpness of features, and attractive physique came from. But more than that, his mischievious side, his lighting-up-the-room smile, and his attitude all seemed to mimic that of Jacob Black.

He laughed again.

"Yeah, it's like I said; we're all close."

"And Lorraine..."

"Yeah?" His voice dripped with amused expectations.

"Well, why does she hate me?"

He barked the loudest laught I'd heard yet.

"Lorraine doesn't hate you. She _likes_ you."

"Likes me?" I asked incredulously, "I'd hate to see what she'd be like if she didn't like me then!"

"Well, maybe '_likes_' isn't the right word. Okay, for a human, she thinks you're cool. Very unique."

I blinked in surprise.

"_'For a human'_?"

"Yeah... she's not the biggest fan of your species."

"Why not?"

"Well, think about it from Lorraine's point of view. She's not a werewolf; she can't phase."

"She's not?" I asked, a rediculous sense of relief rushing through me.

"No. She's not a male. The gene - usually - only is activated in the male. We only know of one female werewolf ever."

"Wow. What happened to her?"

"Well, she's still alive. And in my dad's pack, technically. She imprinted on a guy a few years ago and stopped phasing so she could be with him. She now is living a happy, married life with four children."

"Wait, what does stopping phasing have to do with anything?"

"Well, if you wait long enough, you start to age again."

"_'_Start_ to age, _again_'_? You mean you're not aging now?"

"Well... no. Not physically. But we were talking about Lorraine..."

"Yes." I swallowed, "You revealed that she was not actually a werewolf and couldn't phase."

He mulled over his thoughts before carefully speaking.

"Yes. So she's not one of us, one of my dad's side. She will never be a werewolf. But nor is she fully one of - well, my mom's side. She's not nearly as fast, not nearly as strong, and less durable. Even my mother is only half... and the - er - creatures in general consider her type to be lesser. But... she's not human either. She could never fit fully as anything. Where my double traits strenghten my - gifts of a sort - hers just cast her an outsider. She hears every petty, selfish thing humans think, which distances her further; she can't stand the drama humans create. She really hates the entire human race. She's doomed to live among them, but will never be one, could never trust one with secrets. But she approves of you as far as she _can_ approve of a human. Which is saying something."

"Oh." I was speechless. I had never thought that there could be real reason behind Lorraine's spite. Now it made sense. An overwhelming sense of pity came over me. At least I knew what species I belonged to. Lorraine would never and could never be accepted.

How depressing. Her glares and condescending attitude seemed accounted for.

Then his earlier words and their full content hit me.

"So. You're not aging?"

"No," he confirmed again, softly.

"But what you said, about phasing then...? If you stop...?"

"No, probably not. I mean, I might be able to age a few years more, but Carlisle is sure that it wouldn't be many, and that I'd stop aging altogether at some point. And Lorraine and her age seems to be somehow connected with mine. She too hit a sort of spurt and stopped when I did, though mine was because I was becoming a werewolf."

He wasn't aging. I was. So even if we were together, even if we ended up in a loving, long-lasting, romantic relationship, it would still have be temporary.

It would be doomed.

So no matter how much time I spent with him, no matter how much I let myself fall for him would mean anything in the end, except more of a broken heart for me.

"So we're doomed," I said softly, not intending the break in my voice to happen.

"No!" he said quickly, "No. I mean - my grandfather had a plan, with my grandmother, and I don't see why it wouldn't work for us."

"What was it?" I asked, dreading the irrational yet unavoidable numbing, aching pain threatening to overtake me again.

"Well, merely that I could stay with you while you live your life. You'd continue to grow old, to live life like you're supposed to, and I'll continue to be with you."

That could get weird. I'd be eighty and he'd still be a young adult.

But did I honestly care about that, about what people thought?

Not a bit.

But what of my dreams of growing old together, of children and grandchildren? Was that out of the picture with Matthew?

I focused on breathing in and out, slowly. It would be okay. _We_ would be okay. The panic welling up inside me was stupid, irrational, and pathetic. I needed to pull myself together; Matthew was waiting for a response.

"When are you going to phase for me?" I asked, changing the subject and shoving all morbid and heavy thoughts far away from my heart. I'd reevaluate them once I wasn't wasting precious time with Matthew.

Caution overtook his face again.

"Well," he said slowly, "I suppose I could, now."

I blinked in surprise.

"Okay." My answer sounded less confidant than I'd intended it to.

My uncertainty sparked mischief in his eyes again, and they were suddenly glimmering merrily. He proceeded to reach down to the corners of his shirt and pull it over his head to reveal a perfectly tanned, outrageously toned torso.

My jaw involuntarily dropped open a bit.

His grin widened at my shocked expression.

"Wha- what are you doing?" I gasped in shock, attempting to avoid ogling.

"Well, I have to be naked to phase," he said matter-of-factly, teasing me. My eyes were glued to the ripling muscles in his arms, watching them flex slightly with every movement. My insides melted.

"You have to be _naked_?" I sputtered.

"Well, I don't _have_ to be naked, but then I'd burst out of my clothes and have nothing to change into if I wanted to be a human again. That could get rather awkward."

"Er... yes." Even thinking about imagining him naked was difficult to do. His perfection would probably set me over the edge and I'd explode from experiencing too many emotions at once. I felt my face flush.

His grin turned into a lopsided and affectionate smirk.

"I was gonna finish over there, if you were uncomfortable - which you obviously are."

"Well..."

"Wait here," he said, his grin sliding off his face entirely, becoming replaced by a look of nervous apprehension.

"If..." he bit his lip, "Well, it may freak you out. I mean, it will probably freak you out. You don't have to come close if you don't want. I'll move slowly, but I won't be able to talk to you while I'm a wolf."

"You won't?" I whispered hoarsly, still unable to think or process much information at a time.

"No. So... here I go. I'll change back right away, if you want. You only have to tell me; I'll be able to understand and hear you perfectly. I'll still be me."

"Oh. Alright."

He turned and walked slowly into the distance until he was gone from view entirely.

Was it my imagination, or did the forest dim a little in his absense? Was the chill I felt merely from the lack of his warm hand encasing mine, or was it an instinctive chill of fear? Fear of being alone in the woods, fear of seeing the wolf that was about to step out from the trees? How would I know it was him, if he couldn't talk to me?

I stared into the trees, hard, looking for signs of movement, rubbing my arms to dispell the early-morning cold. I listened to the silence of the woods around me when it occured to me that the woods was never as silent as it was right then. There was no sound of birds chirping, no sound of squirrels russeling. The only sound was that of the breeze rippling through the trees. It was eerie.

Movement by some trees in the distance caught my eye; I turned to look more closely and peered as hard as I could into the trees, trying to suppress the shudder that wanted to work its way down my spine.

The first thing I noticed was fur, a mountain of bronze-colored fur, taller than me and wider by far. The shudder escaped as I noticed a giant head attatched to the front of the fur - a wolf's head.

Instinct warned me that now was a time for running, for screaming; the wolf was the size of a horse, way larger than any wolf could ever dream of growing.

But - perhaps another, deeper instinct - wanted me to pause and appreciate the magnificant beauty of the creature. It's fur was only a little more red than that of Matthew's hair, and the creature screamed regality. It moved with a slow, careful grace; cautious and hesitant while unknowingly commanding respect. Its head beheld a naturally fierce expression, and - I noted as it grew closer - its breathtaking size really was awe-inspiring.

_"It will probably freak you out. You don't have to come close if you don't want. I'll move slowly, but I won't be able to talk to you while I'm a wolf."_

Matthew's words echoed in my head. I took a hesitant step closer to the creature.

It responded by speeding up it's lope and coming nearer more rapidly.

My heart wasn't accelerating nearly at the rate I expected it to be; instead it was slower than normal, almost frozen, each beat taking longer than the last and slamming my rib cage with a painful blow.

I studied its every detail as it closed the last bit of the distance between us, watched the fur ripple across the tops of giant paws, studied how the filtered forest light hit the fur and changed its coloration, how the leg muscles clenched and relaxed with every deliberate movement, memorized its feral curves, admired the cute ears, and - finally, as the creature stopped only about five feet away from me - I noticed its eyes. They were a deep, gorgeous brown, filled with intelligence and unspoken words. They were Matthew's eyes, and their expression was apprehensive, and tender.

My heart rate returned to normal. This was Matthew, after all.

A feeling of calm came over me then, and I felt unbelievably safe and awed.

"Wow," I whispered softly.

His eyes seemed to agree.

I walked over to him, then, and slowly reached out my hand to touch the fur on his shoulder. His eyes met mine and seemed to love my touch. The fur was soft and luscious, and my hand sank through it. I pet it a little, slowly, and then reached up towards his head, still keeping my gaze on Matthew's eyes. I let my finter trail from his ears down to the bottom of his chin. His fur was wonderfully soft and warm. I would have been very okay with snuggling with him as if he was a giant teddy bear.

He stared at me, his eyes becoming somehow harder as if he wanted to convey a message to me through his gaze. Unfortunately, I wasn't exactly as practiced as his sister in the matter of telepathy, and had no idea what he wanted. He jerked his head upwards, almost motioning to his back - as in, he wanted me to ride on his back? What?

"You - what do you mean?" I asked slowly.

His head jerked again, and he bent his knees, bringing himself closer to the ground.

"You don't want me to ride on you or something, do you?"

His head bobbed in a nod.

Me, ride a giant freaking wolf through the woods on an average Saturday morning? This kinda stuff was just - unreal. Impossible. Story-book quality.

I sighed and looked over his huge form. It would be so _high up_. I pictured him running through the woods effortlessly with me on his back, and a low-hanging branch taking me out mid-stride.

"Alright," I said, giving in. I would ride on his back.

He gave me a cautious look as if to say _only if you want to_.

"I do want to," I answered truthfully. As unreal as it was, it was exclusive. How many people could claim that they'd done what I was about to do? And it was more than that - the thought of putting my arms around this furry verstion of Matthew was enticing; I felt like a little kid with a new stuffed animal.

He bent his knees further until he was as low as he could get. I swung my leg over his back and clenched my legs against either side of it. My hands found grips in the fur ahead of me. I was tempted to try and tie the fur around my hands for extra protection, but knew that it wasn't long enough for that.

He rose, slowly, until he was standing again.

I looked around, amazed at how different everything looked from a few feet further up, getting nervous in anticipation.

"Okay," I said after a minute, "Are you going to show me how you run?"

Apparently this was indeed his plan. I felt his body beneath me give a little twitch of excitement, and then felt him take off.

**Author's Note: Yeah, sorry for inconsistancy and the messed up timeline. Hopefully the length of this chapter helps compensate slightly for the excruciatingly long wait. Starting with this chapter, I will try and make them longer from here on out - I actually wanted to make this one longer before adding it but it's three a.m. and I'm tired and have to work tomorrow and so am going to bed and feel obligated to give you something for now. Anyway, thanks for bearing with me; please review!**


	22. The Meadow

**Author's Note: Hey guys; Happy 4th of July! I appreciate you guys a lot, and your reviews motivate me to write faster and update sooner, so please keep them coming! Thank you so much!**

Everything moved surreally fast. The forest went by so quickly that everything seemed just a streaky blur; I couldn't even make out a single, individual tree.

I felt like panic should have been welling up inside me - but instead, the opposite seemed to be true. Perhaps it was Matthew's presence beneath me that held up the illusion of absolute safety, but I found myself enjoying the ride. I hung tightly to the fur, pulled myself instinctively closer to his warm body. My heart and breathing sped up, but from exhilaration rather than fear. I felt my face flush with excitement.

It didn't feel like I was riding on a freakishly giant and tame wolf while it ran; it didn't even feel like he was running at all. The ground passed beneath us so smoothly, so effortlessly; if I'd closed my eyes, I probably wouldn't have been able to tell that we were moving at all.

"This is unreal," I whispered out loud, feeling the breeze suck the words away, sure that even Matthew's ears hadn't heard me.

I started at the colors of the forest around me and just let myself go, as if I was watching some psychedelic television show. I loved it. I felt light, alive, and vibrant, like I could conquer the world or do anything I pleased. I also felt an overwhelming sense of trust, which was knew to me. I was trusting that Matthew wouldn't hurt me; he could literally take me anywhere he wanted and I wouldn't have been able to protest. He could kill me before I knew something was wrong; he'd warned me of his desire to do just that, and that it was still possible at any moment. He could do anything, and I just had to trust him not to. It was new, it was strange, and – surprisingly – I liked it. It had been such a long time since I'd let myself trust anyone completely, since I'd let someone else take the reins in my life.

I would have been content to continue riding on his back and trusting away for the rest of my life, except that too soon I felt his body slow underneath me, actually felt the tensing and relaxing of his muscles.

With every notch his speed decreased, my heart became just a little heavier until it was back to its normal weight. When he stopped, it felt a little sore.

He crouched down for me to get off. I did so, and he immediately straightened back out.

He tapped his paw on the ground twice as if to tell me to stay. He waited.

"You want me to stay here?" I asked. He nodded in response.

I waited, and again, felt his absence heavily. Removed from the soft, furry, warm blanket I'd been sitting on moments ago, the forest seemed even colder than it had while I'd waited for him to turn into a wolf in the first place.

I looked around to see the once-again uninterrupted magnificence of the forest. It was beautiful, but oddly still after all the movement I'd just experienced.

But was the ground moving?

Actually, it seemed as if the trees were starting to sway, like they were under water. How weird.

Suddenly my gut lurched as if someone had punched me in the stomach, hard, but the punch had come from the upper interior of my stomach. I doubled over from the blow and the trees swam even more sickeningly.

My stomach heaved, and I threw up.

I jumped back in surprise, and tried to avoid getting it on any part of me.

The trees were still swimming. My stomach was rolling now, almost in anger.

I threw up again.

"Are you alright?" Matthew's voice asked urgently from behind me. I felt his hot and heavy hand touch my back in support.

I nodded weakly, trying to muster my strength. How embarrassing.

I really was getting okay, though; the trees were starting to become as immobile as they were supposed to be and my stomach felt much better after the last time I'd puked.

"Sorry," I whispered, closing my eyes and sitting down on the forest floor, hoping it would help get rid of the last of the swimming.

"_You're_ sorry?" Matthew asked incredulously. I turned and opened my eyes to see his worried face peering anxiously at me.

"I'm the one that you gave you motion sickness!" he declared, "I guess it was a stupid idea. No more running. I'm sorry."

No more running? But I'd enjoyed it so very, very much.

"No, I don't get motion sickness," I countered, "I don't know why I got sick." I stood up straight and looked Matthew over, only to instantly wish I hadn't. He wasn't wearing a shirt, only jeans, and he looked more perfect than a memory could conjure.

"From the motion of me running," he answered, sure of himself.

"_No_," I said, "I loved it."

"Really?" he asked skeptically.

"Yes… I've never felt as – alive. It was so exhilarating. You know, that's probably it," I declared, an idea occurring to me, "I'm not used to such exhilaration; it made my head spin and me throw up."

"So you admit then, that it was caused by the running," he continued, louder, when I started to protest, "Even if only indirectly. If I hadn't been running, you wouldn't have felt quite so exhilarated and you wouldn't have been sick. I should have given you warning or taken it slower."

"No, you shouldn't have," I argued, "It was great. Besides, how far did we get in that short of a time?"

He shrugged, "A ways. About a hundred miles, give or take a few. We're in the Olympic National Park. Port Angeles is the biggest city around here; it's about twenty miles northeast of us."

Port Angeles. Holy crap. I'd been there once, years ago – there really wasn't a point to going there with Seattle so close – but it was so far away, and we'd gotten there so quickly. Something told me that Matthew hadn't even been running as fast as he could have.

"Wow," I said.

"Yeah."

It was silent between us for a moment, each of us lost in our own train of thought.

"So, you as a wolf…" I started casually.

He cringed, "I told you it would freak you out." He looked away, shamefaced.

"It didn't freak me out," I assured him quickly, "I – liked it. I think I like you better that way," I teased, smiling.

He grinned in response, elated.

"Aw, that's harsh. Besides, I know you find me irresistible," he teased.

"Oh?" I asked, raising my eyebrows skeptically. Of course I did. Was it really that obvious?

His grin grew lazy and amused and he leaned back casually.

"Yeah. Admit it, you can't take your eyes off of me." He threw me an exaggerated eyebrow wiggle that resembled a smoldering look before his amused expression transformed into a smirk.

With any other guy, the maneuver would have been funny, charming, and cute. With Matthew, it was charming and sexy as _hell_. I tried to avoid staring at his bare chest and muscles.

I sighed sarcastically, "You know you really shouldn't be so full of yourself. False bravado only sets you up for future let downs."

His grin became more appreciative.

"Well, one can't help their genetics."

I laughed, "Okay, yes, fine, I admit it; you are incredibly attractive. Happy?"

"Yes," he said, laughing, "That was all I wanted to hear."

I rolled my eyes, smiling.

"But," he added, rapidly turning serious, "You should know, too, that you are – well – _the most beautiful woman I've ever seen_ hardly covers it."

I shrugged, embarrassed. I knew I wasn't that pretty. Not _Lorraine Black_ pretty. I was average.

"Anyway," he said smoothly, sensing my embarrassment, "It really didn't freak you out?"

"Nope. No freaking from this girl."

"_How_? I mean… I turn into a giant _wolf_ for crying out loud!"

I laughed, "Yes, duly noted."

He sighed, unsatisfied.

"Well," he said, "We're here."

"Where's here?"

"The place of our picnic. Come on," He motioned for me to walk with him through the woods a little ways more.

We set off, and I scanned the area to which we were heading. Sunlight was streaming through the trees about fifty yards away. That must have been where we were going. My heart thudded in anticipation. A picnic with Matthew, in a sunlit meadow? Nothing could have been better.

We closed the distance in silence, not touching.

I yearned to reach over and take his hand; I hated that I hadn't kissed him the night we'd had a chance.

But he knew how I felt about him; I'd agreed to date him and even admitted how attractive I'd found him. That should have meant that it was okay to treat me like a girlfriend, right? Yet I was sure that most couples would have been holding hands.

I knew I could do it; I could make the first move. But I didn't know what I was doing; I was chicken; I was nervous as hell.

I snuck a sideways glance at his nearest hand. There it was; big, strong, tan, and – undoubtedly – burning hot. Why couldn't I gather the courage to reach out and take it?

"Okay," he said brightly, "I think you'll like this."

We'd reached the edge of the clearing; a few close-knit branches blocked the view of the meadow but all it would take was a duck under the brush and we'd be in it, alone. At least I was hoping it would be alone.

I smiled at him as he moved the braches out of my way and motioned for me to step through. I obliged, and gasped.

The meadow was gorgeous. It was small and round; its circumference was roughly thirty feet. It was private, it was withdrawn, and it was a scene out of a fairy tale.

Wildflowers grew in abundance and the bright sun made them shimmer in the light.

The trees formed an exquisite border, an enchanted wall that separated us from civilization and the rest of the world.

I'd always been a people person and never been as glad for privacy than at that moment.

"Wow," I breathed, drinking it all in.

"Pretty, huh?"

"It's beautiful!" I exclaimed. I walked into it then, straight into the wildflowers, feeling them tickling my legs, becoming intoxicated by their ethereal aroma. I felt a natural, unbidden grin spread across my own face. I stared up at the sky, at the wide expanse of gorgeous blue and the beautiful clouds decorating it. I wanted to run and dance through the flowers.

I turned to Matthew, laughing with joy.

"Come on," I called out to him, still laughing, beckoning him towards me.

He smiled and stepped into the sunshine. I paused and observed.

Matthew was slightly different in the sun. His skin seemed to glow ever-so-slightly paler, emphasizing his already-celestial-quality looks.

Reddish-brown streaks appeared in his hair among the bronze, glimmering in the sunlight.

I wouldn't ever have dreamed it possible, but Matthew was physically even more attractive than ever before.

I felt more insignificant and unattractive than ever before next to the beauty of the meadow, to the natural perfection of Matthew's appearance.

"Paige," he said, suddenly in front of me, grabbing my hands, "Really?" He looked into my eyes, probing them for answers to all his unspoken questions.

"'_Really_' what?" I asked, taken aback.

"How can you be so calm in my presence? You've seen me turn into a monster and you know that it's difficult for me not to kill you – that it is, in fact, currently excruciatingly difficult. You know I'm something else too, something worse than a creature with the ability to turn into a giant monster, and even the fact that you don't know _what_ I am doesn't freak you out. How? Why? Are – _you are_ human, aren't you?"

I laughed, trying to lighten the mood again, "Yes, I'm most definitely human. I'm one hundred percent human and one hundred percent positive."

He groaned and lowered our hands, "Paige. Please. Be honest. You can't say that I don't scare you at all."

"The scariest thing about you," I admitted slowly, seriously, "Is my feelings_ for_ you."

I can't believe I'd told him that.

His expression turned pained and he released my hands completely.

"I'm sorry," I said quickly, the pain of rejection threatening my well-being again.

"Don't be," he whispered, his hurt eyes still peering into mine, "The selfish part of me is rejoicing right now. The – er – more noble part of me is telling me that I'm another kind of monster entirely."

"What do you mean?" I asked softly, drawn in to our conversation. I reached my hand out towards his again, trying to grab one. He moved them out of my reach, gently.

"Paige, I'm not good for you. I will ruin you; you'll have to give up so much if you end up with me. You have no idea… and I really don't want you to find out. I want to be strong enough to – leave -"

"No!" I said quickly urgently, an uncalled for panic welling inside me, my heart rate tripling.

"You can't leave me," I whispered urgently, tears welling in my eyes.

I hated to show weakness, but the thought of losing Matthew had me gasping in pain. That he would leave me…

"Paige," he whispered back, "You'd be so much better off…"

"_Matthew_!" I argued, my voice breaking, "If you leave me, I..."

I squinted, holding back the flood of emotion. I should let him go. We were hardly dating; we weren't far in a relationship. Why should I hold him back? He didn't have to be with me; I didn't exactly deserve him.

I swallowed hard, "If you want to leave me…"

"I don't _want_ to leave you," he said earnestly, taking my hands again, "If I was strong enough to, I would have already."

A single tear left my eyes and trailed down my face, "I don't want to hold you back; I know you deserve better -"

"Paige!" he cut in, "I'm not leaving you. I want to solely out of love for you and a desire for you to have a normal future. You're perfect; I could never want better."

"_Perfect_!" I scoffed, "I'm far from perfect, Matthew. I'm broken. And it didn't take much to break me. I'm weak. I -"

"Paige," he repeated urgently, transferring both my hands into one of his, wiping my tear away with his thumb, "I would never leave you. _Never_. I would _never_ do that to you. The only way I'll ever leave is if you want it that way. I -" he hesitated, his voice dropping back into a soft whisper, "I… _love_ you."

My heart, and all rational thought, stopped. I felt myself – my instincts, my emotions – plunge into an entirely new abyss of feelings. Instinct kicked in and took over.

"In that case…" I whispered back after a moment of silence, my pulse restarting. I'd fallen over the edge into this new world. Something changed in me the moment I'd heard his proclamation. This was the point of no return; I knew that I would never bounce back from a romantic catastrophe now.

I got up on my tiptoes then, pushing my head towards Matthew's. I pulled my hands out of Matthew's grasp and threw them around his neck.

Surprise flickered across his face once he realized what I wished before it was replaced by enthusiasm and delight.

He lowered his face to meet mine.

Our lips met.

Fireworks went off somewhere inside me, tingles coursed through my body, and my blood boiled. I gasped.

Matthew's mouth didn't leave my face during my gasp, it moved down my jaw. I turned my head and our lips met again.

The kiss continued until I ran out of breath. I was getting dizzy, intoxicated by him, by the meadow, and – most of all – the kisses, sweeter than I'd ever thought kisses could be, stirring new and unknown feelings deep inside.

I pulled away for an instant, drawing a deep breath, "I love you too," I whispered, and went in for another kiss.

The kisses continued, growing ever more passionate.

"You are," I started, between kisses, "Really good, for a first time,"

We kissed again.

"I never said this was my first kiss," he said, laughing softly the next time we pulled apart.

He moved in for another kiss.

"Wait," I said, pulling away.

"What?" he asked, his face radiant from our kissing.

"What do you mean?"

"About what?"

"That this isn't your first kiss; I mean, you've only been around seven years, I thought?"

"Yes, but that doesn't mean…" He sighed, "Look, is this important right now?"

"Yes," I said. I realized that the acidic burning I felt could also be known as jealousy.

"Who?" I croaked.

"She wasn't even human," he started dismissively, "She -"

"Not even _human_?" Great. So far my experience with inhuman beings is that they were a thousand times more beautiful than ordinary humans. Undoubtedly that was true here as well.

"One of my mother's type, actually. But we never – I mean – trust me, Paige, she was nothing."

"Nothing? But you kissed her."

"Paige, she doesn't matter."

"Why not?" I thought of how beautiful Renesme was. It didn't do anything to get rid of the acid.

"Paige, trust me, she has _nothing_ on you. Nothing."

"You can't tell me that." I crossed my arms, "You can't tell me she wasn't a thousand times more beautiful than me."

"Paige," he said again, "She wasn't. And her beauty means nothing, because she has nothing on you. _Nothing_."

Nothing. Yeah, right. At least my heart rate and breathing were finally returning to normal.

"You can't tell me you've never kissed another guy," he said accusatorily.

"Well – strictly speaking – I have, but that's different."

"How on earth is that different?"

"I've had _eighteen years_ in which to kiss a guy! You've had _seven_! That's less than half the time I've had, and – well – "

"It's the same thing," he said in an odd voice.

"What?" I asked, distracted by his sudden change in tone.

"May I ask who _you_ kissed?"

"You don't know him," I smirked, "He's just a human."

"Does he go to our school?"

"Yes."

"Then I know him. Tell me, please."

I sighed.

"Well," I said, "My experience _really_ didn't matter. But Sebastian O'Dahllen."

"That dork from our English class?" he snorted.

"Hey, he's not a dork," I retorted, "And I had a huge crush on him for years."

"What did you see in _him_?"

I laughed at his incredulous look. Was it really jealousy that I was detecting? Matthew was jealous of Sebastian?

"He was cute, funny, charming, and very smart," I said, milking it just a little. Sebastian was a dork, and he wasn't that cute. He definitely wasn't charming. He was funny and smart, but that was about all he'd had going for him.

Matthew wrinkled his nose in disbelief.

Yes, it was definitely jealousy I was detecting. And Matthew obviously wasn't used to being jealous.

"That wimp couldn't charm anything. You're way too good for him. How did you end up together, anyway?"

"Well, we were lab partners. He was really smart, and I thought I really liked him."

"You thought?"

"Yeah… then we went on an awkward 'date' accompanied with an even more awkward kiss…"

I wrinkled my nose at the memory.

"That was it," I clarified.

"Oh," he said, amused.

"So I guess we're on even footing then…?"

"Uh, yeah."

I smiled and moved in to kiss him again.

His face twitched a little. He grimaced and put a restraining hand on my shoulder.

"What?" I asked.

"We'd better not," he said reluctantly.

"Why not?"

"I'm not as strong as I thought I was; I don't know how much self-control I have. Even as far as we were…"

"What do you mean?"

"It's dangerous."

"How is it dangerous?"

"Paige, your scent – it's – hard to be so close to. It's so much more potent. I want to kill you just that much more. And even if I didn't kill you in that gruesome way, if I lost control of myself for a second, I could kill you entirely on accident. I'm – very strong."

"I see…" I hadn't known that close proximity increased the chance that he would kill me.

Had I just come seriously close to death without even realizing it?

Then why wasn't my heart speeding in fear; why didn't my breath spike in terror?

Why was I so calm, able to handle the information he'd just given me so well?

"Okay," I said, "Then let's just… hang out."

"That sounds good," he said, smiling back.

I reached out and took his hand. I pulled him further into the flowers of the meadow.

I sank to the ground and pulled him with me.

The sun shone brightly, illuminating Matthew and the floral Eden we sat in. The flowers rose around us magnificently, sucking us completely into the magical scene around us.

We sat cross-legged on the soft landscape beneath us.

Matthew pulled me closer to him, so our shoulders were touching. I let my head fall against his broad, muscular shoulder. His rough, hot thumb began to absentmindedly stroke the back of my hand, sending tingles up my arm.

I sighed contentedly, letting my body relax into his.

Life was absolutely divine.


	23. Picnic

**Author's Note: I'm SO sorry for not updating in so long! I'm now moved in and settled into college, but life is still crazy, and the homework loads are monumental. Plus, I've started another story on here after watching the show Kyle XY. SO now I'm trying to keep both updated. **

**I'd also like the THANK all you readers that have stuck with me this long, and all my constant reviewers - you have no idea how much your reviews encourage me. So thanks! :D (And I promise the a slow-coming, unexpected climax - like in Twilight - is coming really soon!)**

"You know, you kissed me right after I threw up. That's -" I crinkled my nose.

"It wasn't bad," he said, his expression amused, "I didn't mind."

I smiled. "You _must_ care about me."

"I do," he answered seriously.

"Still, it's kind of gross for you, and embarrassing for me."

I felt him shrug. We sunk to the ground completely so we were laying among the flowers.

I pulled myself up so that half of me was laying on his chest. He put his arms around me. Laying with him came so naturally. I felt so safe, so wanted, and so warm with him.

"This is nice," I said softly.

"You have no idea," he answered, "How nice it is for me."

My grin grew.

"So," he said, "Tell me more about yourself."

"I think you know everything there is to know about me."

He laughed, "Paige, there's so much more to know!"

"Like what?"

"Eighteen years worth of stuff to know about you. There's so much to ask..."

"Well, you can ask," I said, "But I don't know why all the unimportant little details about me are so interesting to you. I'm a pretty boring person."

"Please. You are anything _but_ boring."

I was flattered, but also flabbergasted.

"Well, I still have a lot of questions about you, too, and your story is much more fascinating."

"Yes, and I'll tell you everything I can. But you know I still can't tell you everything."

"Okay, I'll ask, and if you CAN'T answer, then jut say 'pass' but if you just don't want to answer, you still have to. Deal?"

He chuckled, "Okay."

"Okay. Hm. First question: do you still want to kill me right now?"

He hesitated before answering, "Paige, I don't emotionally or consciously want to kill you _ever_; it's my - body, my buried instinct that is so determined to end your life. But yes. It's not as hard right now - it's easier to maintain control right now than it ever has been around you - but yes, there is still a part of me that wants to."

I felt a little better knowing that his homicidal wishes weren't stemming from uncontrolled thoughts.

"I wonder," I said softly, "Why is it that it's easier now? That it's easier at some times than it is at others?"

"I'm not sure," he answered after a moment, "I think it's because I'm so relaxed, and so euphoric."

"Was it hard for you when you were a wolf?"

He chuckled, "No. That was an amazing experience - because as a wolf, the need to end your life is completely nonexistent. It's not my wolf side that causes it. The wolves protect human life. That's their legacy. They don't end life. I can't even tell you how ecstatic I was be around you as a wolf - if I hadn't been worried about freaking you out, scaring you - I almost would have preferred to stay like that the whole day. It's so incredible to be able to appreciate you fully, and not worry quite so much about controlling myself."

He laughed, "Although carrying on conversation would have been a little difficult."

I smiled, "Only a little. Since you can't talk."

"But you did an excellent job reading my thoughts," he acknowledged, his voice light.

"More your expressions and actions than thoughts," I laughed.

He shrugged, "Even so."

We both laughed a little. Once it simmered, I asked softly, "So, why can't you tell me what else you are again? What your mom is?"

He sighed.

"It's hard to explain. And part of me wants to tell you - so you'd be warned. But most of me knows that that's impossible. And is glad for it."

"Why?" Renesme definitely didn't seem intimidating.

"Because - well, first of all, when Bella - my grandmother - was a regular human girl, and she found out Edward - her husband and my grandfather who hadn't been human since the early nineteen hundreds - she - "

"The early nineteen hundreds?!" I interrupted incredulously.

"Yeah. He hadn't been human in a while."

"When did he meet your grandmother, Bella?"

"Fourteen years ago. She was seventeen."

I blinked in shock.

"She had my mother twelve years ago, a few days before she would have turned twenty."

"Wow. That's so hard to wrap my head around - that your grandmother was our age only twelve years ago!"

"Yeah, I guess. I mean, that's how it's been my whole life. I don't know what it's like not to have your grandmother only be twenty-four years older than you."

I shook my head.

"What was it like, to age so fast?"

This was fascinating stuff.

He laughed again, "Well, I don't know what it would have been like to age so_ slowly_. But I imagine it felt the same. It felt natural. It only seems different if you compare the two, side by side. I just accomplished in about six years what took you and the rest of your kind about eighteen."

That was an interesting way of looking at it. But it made sense.

"Alright. So you were telling me about why you can't tell me what else you were, before I rudely interrupted..."

He sighed, "Yeah. Well as I was saying, Bella found out about Edward, and it didn't go well for Bella once the Volturi found out. They sentenced her to death, or life as one of them. And now she's one of them."

"So it's possible for you to become one - of whatever they are?"

"Yes."

"How?" I was definitely not unconditionally willing to throw away my humanity - or risk it - to become an evil, unnamed creature that I knew nothing about, but I was intrigued.

"Pass," he answered instantly. I looked at him reproachfully.

"Your rule," he reminded me.

"Fine," I pouted, "But then, continue."

"Alright. Well, even if I told you and the Volturi didn't find out, I - I don't know if I could handle you knowing that about me. I mean, you've been great so far - but I mean it when I tell you that the other side of me is_ dangerous_. And even if my turning into a wolf didn't freak you out, this side of me _would_."

An involuntary shiver made it's way down my side. Matthew's voice was getting harder, more urgent. He meant this. And I wondered what creature could possibly be that bad? I wasn't sure I wanted to find out, anyway.

"Besides, the Volturi would find out. I'm sure they are anxious to check up on my mother, and once they do - if they discover the existence of me and Lorraine - well, it wouldn't bode well. And it definitely wouldn't bode well for you if you knew anything about them. They'd kill you on the spot, probably, or else force you to become one of them. And maybe they'd kill you accidently in the process. I couldn't live with myself if any of those things happened to you."

"I see," I said softly.

"Yeah. And even if - by some miracle - we could excuse you as being party to the knowledge via the wolves, I just don't think they'd leave us alone for long. And I don't think they'd leave you alone for long."

We laid in silence for a little while, each mulling on our own thoughts.

"By the way," he said, "I'm leaving next weekend."

"What?"

"For the weekend. Me, Lorraine, Renesme, Jacob - we're actually going to visit the wolves. Several members of Jacob's pack live on La Push, near Forks. We're going to visit them, and the rest of our family there. That being my great grandfather Charlie, and my grandfather Billy. And Sam and his pack - they are another pack of werewolves. Jacob and his pack were all part of Sam's at one point."

"Oh."

Was it crazy that I wanted to go with him? I wanted to meet his family, and other werewolves. The only one's I'd seen had been Matthew and Jacob.

"That should be fun," I told him, trying to sound optimistic.

"It will be nice to see them," he said evasively.

"But not fun?" I asked.

"Well, I don't think I could have fun, away from you. I'll be thinking about you the whole weekend."

I smiled in spite of myself.

"I'll be thinking of you too," I answered.

"What will you do?" he asked.

"I don't know... I might go a little crazy. Maybe you'll have to call me or something, one night. What day are you leaving?"

He laughed, "I meant, 'what will you do with your weekend?'. But we're leaving Thursday, after school. We're skipping Friday."

"Oh." Longer than I'd anticipated, "Maybe you_ will_ have to call me one night."

"Maybe I will," he answered musingly.

"And I have no idea what I'm going to do for the weekend. Maybe sleep, do some homework. Probably figure out which college I'm going to."

"Which college _are_ you going to?"

"I don't know. Probably the University of Washington - Seattle. I got in, and it's not that far."

"You don't want to go far?"

"Well, I don't know. I don't really care. I also got accepted to the University of Wisconsin, Stevens Point. It's where my grandparents want me to go. But I don't know. I don't want to be smothered by them. Where are you going?" I lifted my head and put rested my chin on his chest. I would go wherever he went.

"I don't know - probably Seattle as well."

"Really? I mean, you're a genius - you could teach Harvard a few things, I'd bet."

He shrugged.

I laughed.

"Why Seattle?"

"It's a good school," he said seriously.

"Well, then I'm definitely going there."

"Because I am?"

"Yes. College together would be cool," my insides melted a little at the thought. College, the future - it had all seemed so empty, directionless, until I'd thought of it with Matthew. Now I had a plan, sort of. It didn't really matter what happened afterwards, but suddenly going to college with Matthew seemed like it would be the greatest thing in the world, like it was all I could ask out of life.

"Well, yeah, it would be cool." What an understatement.

"Okay, next question: if it's possible to become one of what your grandparents are, is it possible to become what _you_ are?"

I had no idea why the question instantly felt so important. It wasn't like I was willing to give up humanity for a chance with Matthew - but, the age thing bothered me. I didn't want to age away while he stayed young forever.

"No."

"Oh." The disappointment I felt was utterly irrational.

"We're almost positive that if I tried to - well, turn someone - that that someone would die."

"Oh. Almost?"

"Well, technically there's no one else exactly like me, and I for one, am not willing to try it on anyone. No one is going to die for the mere sake of curiosity. But, technically, no one's ever died. But knowing all the facts and details about - where I come from on both ends - it is extremely likely that I would just kill someone."

"I'm intrigued. How does this transformation come about, that you'd kill the person where someone else wouldn't? I mean, you seem much less likely to be the type of person capable of murder than say - Lorraine. For example."

"It's not a level of control or anything to do with my actions. I - Paige, we're done with this conversation. I really can't tell you anymore."

"Just tell me a little more. Please."

I was burning with curiosity.

He seemed to cave to my pleading look, and reluctantly continued.

"Alright, well - I - my mother's side - they are_ poisonous_. Their bodies make a special poison that they can - administer - to a person and that person would die. But, in special cases, their poison wouldn't kill, it would transform. My mother doesn't have the poison; she's too human. And so far only males of her kind are poisonous. I have poison. But wolves don't have poison, and my grandparent's poison _always_ kills a wolf. So it's almost garunteed that mine would be just deadly poison."

"I see."

_Poison. Deadly_. My mind was spinning. What kind of creature was poisonous, whose poison could transform? I was coming up with nothing.

"What if - someday - I decide to risk it, and ask you what you are? Will you tell me?"

He sat up, forcing me to get off of him. We faced each other. I crossed my legs. I leaned in, sure that his clenched jaw and tight demeanor were a clue as to my coming answer.

"No. Because you don't know what you're asking, and you don't know enough to know that you don't want that."

"Whoa. I was speaking of a potential future event. But isn't that _my_ choice?"

"No. Because you may think you want to know now - and that nothing is so bad that it wouldn't be worth it or whatever - but afterwards, once you knew, you'd want to take it back. And unfortunately, you wouldn't know that you wouldn't have wanted to risk it until it was too late. And I will_ never_ put you in danger from the Volturi or have your humanity questioned. Ever. I promise."

His eyebrows furrowed and his nostrils flared in determination. His eyes were pained.

He looked away.

"Are you okay?" I asked, concerned about the pain I'd seen in his eyes.

"Yeah. You shouldn't be asking _me_ if_ I_ am okay. You're the one that is dealing with a lot of things that are very difficult to come to terms with today. Are_ you_ okay?"

"I'm fine," I smiled a little. He answered with an odd look.

"You really are very good with _weird-and-dangerous_, you know."

"Um, thanks...?"

He half-grinned.

"So, Jacob's wolf pack..."

"What about it?"

"Well, tell me about them."

"Alright." His half-grin had hardly disappeared before its new reappearance. I loved that grin. It always managed to send my heart into overdrive, which only amused Matthew more. Somehow, I was sure, he could hear my heart beat.

I listened to him talk, thinking a little about what he was saying. I mostly just wanted to be able to think for a little while, without having to converse. It was a shame to miss out on conversation with Matthew - just talking to him simultaneously soothed and excited me. It was intoxicating. So intoxicating, it was hard to think. And I was concerned about his other half. I knew that he thought it was possible that I believed that nothing could be outside the realm of my tolerance, and that he believed that whatever he was so far surpassed any expectations I could come up with, that I would change my mind if I knew the truth. I didn't know what to think about that. I was positive that nothing could make me reject him - I knew he wasn't what half of his genetics claimed he was. Not even half. And his mother seemed so sweet. That they could be evil, or have evil rooted deeply inside, was so hard to believe.

I listened to Matthew's voice. If I hadn't been listening to it's musical tones, I wouldn't have believed it possible for a voice to be so smooth, so velvety. It was soft, but there was a hard edge underneath the soft outer layer. It was deep, like most men, but it weaved pitches over and under each other like a gorgeous symphonic melody.

Renesme's voice was much the same, but higher, and even more warm and welcoming. Renesme's voice didn't have the hard edge I detected in Matthew's.

I thought of Jacob's; Jacob's voice was ordinary. Human. Low and sexy, but still, not outside the realm of any normal man's.

So whatever Renesme was, the smooth, silky voice went with it. What sort of creature could possibly posses both that amazing, resonating, rich voice, and dark, murderous qualities at the same time?

I shook my head. It didn't matter. I loved Matthew. It didn't matter what he was; I would always love him. Even if he had killed someone before - even if he had killed _more_ than one someone before - I would still love him. Perhaps I was trapped in this love, but it certainly didn't feel like a prison. My heart was singing. If this was prison, I wanted to stay there forever.

"Well," Matthew said suddenly. I jumped. I wondered how long I'd been lost in his voice.

"Shall we feast?" He grinned.

"Sure," I answered feebly.

"Good; I'm starving." He grabbed the bag I'd seen him leave the house with before, and put in front of him.

"Hey," I started, confused, "How did that get here?"

"I carried it here," he answered, amused at my confusion.

"No," I protested, "I mean, how did it get _here_? You were a wolf on our way here...

"Yeah... I tied it around my leg. Same with my clothes. You didn't notice?

"No." How had I missed something that big? I thought I had memorized every detail of the wolf - apparently not.

"Did that make it harder to run?" I asked.

"No, not really. It's just a little annoying."

"Oh."

He opened the bag and pulled out a smaller cloth cooler, a table cloth, and two glasses.

Before I had time to blink - much less offer to help - the table cloth was spread out over the wildflowers and grass, somehow laying totally flat. Two plastic plates sat across from each other, each laden with a gourmet-looking array of foods. One contained gourmet-style sausages in their own little buns. Another was adorned with delicious-looking chocolate-covered strawberries. A bowl of potato salad and a jug of milk rested between the two plates.

It all looked delicious. He carefully set out two wine glasses, one in front of each of us.

"Wine glasses?" I raised an eyebrow in amusement.

"For the milk," he said lightly, his mouth lifting into his incredible half-grin.

"That's a new one," I said, laughing.

He shrugged, "They're classier."

I laughed again, and he laughed with me. He seemed so lighthearted and free here; it was nice. If possible, if only strengthened the love I felt for him.

"Milk in a wine glass," I laughed, holding my suddenly full glass of milk towards him in the gesture of a toast, "To class!"

He laughed, and softly touched his glass of milk to my own.

"To class," he repeated, innocently serious.

Our eyes were locked into each other's as we each took a drink.

The gaze intensified.

I lowered my glass slowly, unable to look away. My heart was swollen. Swollen with love. It literally hurt.

He lowered his and cleared his throat, looking away. He began to pile the sausages onto his own plate, taking a few bites of them in between the shuffle. He ate an entire sausage in two bites.

He stopped before scarfing down another sausage when he saw me watching him.

"Sorry," he said, "Ladies first. Dig in." He pushed the center plate of sausages towards me.

I giggled.

"Classy," I muttered teasingly under my breath.

"You know it," he answered, once again in mock-sincerity.

I laughed.

I slowly removed a sausage from the plate, exaggerating delicacy, and nibbled a bit off of one end, trying to keep a straight face.

I met his eye, and his face broke out into the smile he'd been trying to keep off his own face.

I couldn't resist; my own straight face disappeared instantly; we both began laughing uproariously.

We watched each other as we laughed.

In a way, it felt unreal; as if this should have been a movie. It was too perfect. Our laughter died slowly, flirty Like there should have been music playing in the background, and it should have been in slow motion.

"You scrunch your nose when you laugh," he said soflty, suddenly serious. Our intense gaze from before reignited and strengthened.

"Yeah," I breathed.

I barely jumped when his face was suddenly inches from my own. He was next to me, holding me.

"Would you be grossed out if I kissed you right now?" he whispered.

I shook my head slowly, "You kissed me after I puked."

"Yeah," he said, his grin back, his intensity unwavering. He nodded a little, "You owe me for that."

"I thought you didn't mind?" My own voice dropping to a whisper.

"I didn't."

His face closed the distance between us, slowly. Our lips met again. My eyes fluttered closed. This kiss was slow, deep, passionate. But tender. I kissed him back, and my hands found their way to the back of his head, entangling themselves in his hair. I pulled him closer to me.

I wanted him; I wanted him with me forever.


	24. Art?

**Author's Note: Please review! I'm sorry it took me so long to update!**

"I wish you didn't have to go," I admitted wistfully. I was seeing him off for his weekend trip to Forks.

"I know," he said smugly, a satisfied smirk appearing on his face.

I raised an eyebrow in amusement, repressing a smile.

"I mean," he said quickly, his eyes twinkling and his mouth turning into a grin, "I wish I didn't have to go either."

"Better," I acknowledged, rolling my eyes and letting a smile slip onto my face.

"Seriously," he said, his grin vanishing and demeanor changing to sincerity as quickly as it had initially appeared, "I will miss you. And even though I_ do_ want to see everyone, I would rather be here, with you."

"I'll miss you too," I answered softly, taken aback by his sudden seriousness.

"Don't do anything reckless while I'm gone," he said teased, snapping back into his playful persona, "I won't be here to save you."

I sighed exaggeratedly.

"Well," I started sarcastically, "That will be really hard... but I suppose I could try to stave off my daily dose of danger while you're away."

"Good," he laughed.

He put his hands on either side of my face and tilted it upward. He leaned down and our lips met. I closed my eyes and kissed him back briefly before pulling away.

"Your parents," I whispered, nodding in their direction.

"Can hear you," he whispered back, chuckling softly, "And it's fine. They're happy that I'm happy." His arms found their way around me and pulled me close in a hug.

"Maybe next time, you'll come with me," he said softly into my ear.

"To Forks?" I asked.

"Yeah. And meet everyone."

"I'd like that," I answered.

He pulled away, grinning.

"Lorraine is anxious to leave. But I'd love that, too."

I glanced at Lorraine in the backseat of Renesme's fancy car. Her expression was beyond impatient. But Matthew's back was to her.

"How - " I started.

"You forget I have better hearing than you," he explained.

He kissed the top of my head.

"Goodbye," he whispered.

"Bye."

I watched wistfully as he got into the back of the car.

He shut the door and looked back at me. Our eyes met, and the message exchanged between us was one of mutual longing.

I stared at the car until it was no longer visible.

I sighed, and got into my aunt's car. She had the day off and had let me borrow her car.

I didn't have the heart to turn on the radio the way back to the house. It was kind of pathetic; I couldn't believe the effect a temporary absence had on me.

It started to rain, and I thought back to the abrupt end our picnic had come to the weekend previous.

We'd been having an enchanting time eating our fancy picnic and chatting when the sky had gotten very cloudy very quickly. Matthew had heard the rain start before it reached us, and in a flash the picnic had disappeared and he'd scooped me up in his hot arms. The next thing I knew, I was under the shelter of the trees, staring at the rain falling into the meadow.

_"I'm sorry," he said, "I had no idea it was going to rain today. The weatherman predicted sun all day."_

_"Well, that doesn't mean anything. They're wrong pretty often," I answered cheerfully, grinning up at him, "This is just a rainy place. Good thing you don't turn into a cat."_

_He laughed, his eyes sparkling. _

_"Yeah, it is. I didn't notice the clouds coming - you were too distracting."_

_It was my turn to laugh, " I don't think I'll ever understand how you can find me that interesting. I'm really not." _

_He just shook his head. _

_"Isn't the sound of rain absolutely exquisite?" I asked, closing my eyes and admiring the sounds it made as it landed on the various surfaces around me. _

_"You aren't used to it by now?" He asked, raising an eyebrow in surprise._

_"Nah." I'd always liked the sound of the rain - I'd always thought of it as sort of a romantic sound - but I'd never realized it's full potential among romantic sounds until I was listening to it with Matthew. I breathed deeply, feeling the delightfully earthy smell penetrate my lungs. _

_"It's one of my favorite sounds," I admitted, "And smells."_

_"You never stop surprising me,"he said softly, "They're my favorite too."_

_Our eyes met. His brow furrowed, his stare intensified. _

_I swallowed, feeling his passion and stirring my own. _

_Then his lips were against mine, his arm around my shoulder, the other in my hair, pulling me closer to him. My arms found their way around him, my hands tangled themselves in his hair. I gasped, feeling my blood boiling._

_My lips pressed harder against his, I pulled on him to bring him closer. Our bodies pressed against each other._

_His lips left mine and made their way along my jaw._

_Feelings I'd never experienced were awakening inside me._

_I pulled his head, trying to bring his lips back to mine. _

_The rain fell harder and started making its way through the trees. It started pounding through the trees. _

_We pulled apart as it drenched us. _

_I laughed breathlessly. _

_I didn't notice his lack of smile, didn't notice his brow furrow again, this time in frustration._

_I stepped out of the shelter of the trees, back into the meadow. I spread my arms and threw my head backward, letting the rain course over me, opening my mouth and drinking the rain that landed inside. I spun around, enjoying the downpour more than I'd ever enjoyed a downpour before. The cold rain and the cold air felt oddly good; they served as reminders that I was indeed living in reality. They reminded me of the kisses Matthew and I had shared. _

_"Matthew," I said, "Come on, let's dance in the rain. I've always wanted to."_

_Then he was next to me, my hands in his. His hands warmed mine, sending waves of heat through my arms. _

_He twirled one of his hands over and around my head, spinning me, and leaving his arm around me, our bodies touching each other._

_He grinned, and spun me outwards again. _

I'd never danced as well as I had with Matthew, in the rain. We'd danced for a long time, danced to imaginary music. I'd never felt so alive.

I sighed, turning the windshield wipers up a notch. The weekend could never go fast enough.

Eventually the rain had slowed to a more steady rate, and I'd gotten tired out.

_I stumbled to the shelter of the trees again, plopping down on a rock. _

_"Well that was awesome," I laughed._

_He chuckled, "Yes, it was really fun."_

_"We should probably get back though,"he said after a moment I'd spent catching my breath._

_"Already?" _

_He laughed, "We've been gone a long time. And don't forget; we're by Port Angeles." _

_"Oh yeah," I answered, remembering how impossibly far from Elma we were. _

_He smiled at the expression on my face._

_I started to shiver, the cold getting to me, now that I wasn't attached to Matthew._

_His brow furrowed in concern._

_"You look freezing," he informed me, putting his arm around me._

_I leaned into him, "Not as long as I'm touching you. You're like a personal heater." _

_"We should get you back. You don't want to get sick."_

_"Do you ever get sick?" I asked, the question occurring to me randomly. _

_"No. And I'm not practiced dealing with human issues like that; I didn't even think of it. I should get you back."_

_I sighed, feeling the cold seeping into my system, "I suppose so. I am pretty cold." I shivered involuntarily, suddenly wishing I was dry. But it was still raining._

_Matthew glared at the sky. He scooped me up in his arms, my knees resting perfectly on one, my legs dangling off the edge, my head resting against his chest._

_He pulled me as tight to his warm body as possible. His warmth felt amazing. I could fall asleep. I closed my eyes._

_"Is this okay?" he asked._

_The rain stopped._

_I smiled and nodded._

_"Then we'll go back like this."_

_"Don't you need to turn into a wolf?"_

_"No. I'm not as fast this way, but this will keep you warmer."_

_"But it's not raining anymore. It wouldn't make a difference."_

_"It's still raining."_

_I opened my eyes to protest properly. The forest was whizzing by in a blurry streak._

_We'd already been running. The run was so smooth, I didn't even feel it, I hadn't even felt him start running beneath me. _

_Maybe I wouldn't stop surprising him, but he would never never stop amazing me. I watched the colors of what could only be trees and sky mix together and paint beautiful abstract art as it passed. I leaned into Matthew, reveling in his warmth and what the day had been. It definitely was the best day of my life, and the great thing about it was that it was still in progress. _

We'd gotten back to his house in very little time. At speeds too fast for me to keep up, Renesme had helped me into a warm bubble bath. She'd gotten me warm clothes and plush towels, and had lent me her plush robe and slippers. When I'd put them on and stepped into the room I was staying in, she'd been there, offering me hot cocoa.

I'd thanked her for everything she was doing for me, and informed her that she really didn't need to make such a fuss over me.

_"Oh, but I do," she said, her deep brown eyes - Matthew's eyes - sparkling merrily._

_"You look so much like Matthew," I blurted out, "Or - well, I guess Matthew looks a lot like you." _

_She grinned, and I realized that Matthew had Jacob's grin._

_"Well, I'm hoping that's a compliment."_

_"Of course!" I said, "For both of you."_

_"You're very sweet. Speaking of Matthew; he's downstairs, worrying like crazy that he's responsible for getting you deathly ill. He made this for you," she pressed the cup of hot chocolate into my hands and winked, tilting her head towards the door, and smiling indulgently._

_"Thank you," I repeated, "For all of this." I gestured at the room and the garments I was now wearing._

_"I couldn't be happier to help." She sat on the edge of the bed I'd used._

_"He really cares for you," she said softly._

_I sat down on the edge, a foot of awkward space between us. I wasn't used to dealing with such a maternal person, and I especially wasn't used to being taken care of by one. It was embarrassing; I was more than capable of doing everything myself. Still, it was - nice. Very nice. _

_"And I him," I told her._

_"I'm glad to hear it," she said, "For Matthew's sake. My family is my world. Which is one of the reasons that I have to warn you to be careful."_

_"Careful?"_

_"Yes. Our world can be... dangerous, for humans. If anything ever happened to you, Matthew wouldn't be able to live with himself, and we couldn't handle losing him."_

_"Well - what should I be careful of?" I asked. The thought of Matthew killing himself over me was repulsive."_

_"Unfortunately, a lot of things. Don't push Matthew, please. If he lost control of himself for a second, it could have a tragic ending for you both. I don't know if Matthew told you about the Volturi...?"_

_"Yes, he did."_

_"Well. Then you realize how important it is that he stay unexposed. The Volturi already have an eye on me; if they knew about Matthew's existence..." Her expression turned dark, "Well, we don't need another reason for the Volturi to be interested in us. My point with that, though, is that Matthew might have to leave, eventually. He's not aging; that could become an issue." _

_Why was she telling me all this? I couldn't afford to think about, didn't want to feel panic. I refused to, so I refused to really take in the meaning of her words. Instead, I wondered why she was warning me. Was it just for Matthew's sake? Had she done everything for me for Matthew's sake? Of course she must have been; why would she care about me, really? Perhaps she didn't approve of me at all..._

_"Maybe not, but maybe so. And if the Volturi _do_ find out about him, he'll probably not be able to maintain an average lifestyle. What I'm saying is, you could get hurt. And I don't want to be a buzzkill, but I do want to be realistic; I don't want either one of you to get hurt."_

_I blinked, taken aback. She didn't want_ either of us_ to get hurt?_

_"Um. You mean me, too?"_

_"Of course I do. Why - " intuition flickered in her eyes, "Oh, Matthew told me about your family. I'm sorry. But you should know that you don't need to feel alone anymore. Matthew loves you, so I love you, unconditionally."_

_I wasn't sure how to respond. _

_"Um, thanks." I cleared my throat._

_She caught on to my discomfort, but she put her hand over mine. _

You're not alone anymore. You can feel safe. We'll always be here for you.

_I jumped as the words popped into my head. The words had formed in Renesme's voice. _

_She smiled at my reaction. I began to think I was calm, and accepted._

_I jerked my hand away from hers._

_"You - you -"_

_"It's a little talent I have." _

_"I - "_

_Matthew hadn't told me about this. I hadn't even known it was a possibility._

_"My kind's gifts seem to reverse themselves through generations. My father and Lorraine can hear thoughts. I can give thoughts and images. My mother's talents are like Matthews; they can shield themselves and others from tricks of the mind. No mind can keep me out. But I have to be close, or touching."_

_"But that's so - invasive."_

_She shrugged, "I only use it when necessary. You were feeling awkward, weren't you?"_

_"Well, yes..."_

_"And I needed you to know that you were safe here. Regular word exchange wouldn't have done the trick."_

I doubted I'd ever get used to Renesme's little gift. I resented her intrusion. When she'd given me the thought, I'd felt that they were absolute truth. Was that part of her gift? Or was what she was saying really that true? It was odd having people really care about my welfare. It would take getting used to. Still, it was - nice. Very nice.

I pulled into the driveway of my aunts house and turned the engine off.

I sighed. I needed to find something to do to distract myself from thinking about Matthew.

I hated time spent away from him.

Still, here was a lot of it, and I needed to do something with myself, like I used to.

What did I used to do, before Matthew?

I was always in a production, and was practicing for that. Now I wasn't in one, so I couldn't do that.

I could draw. I used to love to draw, but hadn't done so in years.

I got out of my car, enthusiastic about my new task at hand. I ran to my room where I proceeded to tear through my belongings to find my old sketch pad and pencils.

A strong sense of nostalgia hit me when I found them. I used to draw whenever I could. I'd lost my love of it once my parents had died, and had only occasionally drawn anything since.

I sat back on my heels and opened the cover.

A half-completed drawing of my parents stared back at me. I remembered then; I'd started the drawing about four years ago. I'd realized that I hardly knew what my parents had looked like anymore. In a panic, I'd gotten a picture of them out, and had begun to draw. I'd drawn as far as I could handle before my emotions got the better of me and I'd forgotten about it.

I would finish it, someday.

I flipped the page.

It was blank. The rest of the book was blank.

I felt like - because of Matthew - my life was really starting again. I could start drawing again. I wouldn't be able to make a career out of it - I hadn't taken any art classes or anything - but it would be a rekindling of a past passion.

The rest of the book was like the rest of my life.

The first page summarized my past.

The rest of the book was my future. It was up to me to start filling it.

Excitement overtook me. I would draw Matthew and his family, once they got back. But for now I wanted to draw a beautiful scene.

I thought of the woods, of the incredible time I'd had there last weekend. I was too bad I couldn't go back to that meadow on my own; I would have loved to draw it from just inside the trees.

For now, I'd have to settle for a piece of nearby woods.

I put my jacket back on. I would go for a walk in the woods. I'd walk until a patch of woods was so overwhelmingly picturesque, I had to draw it.

I stepped outside and began to walk. It was a beautiful day outside; my jacket would definitely prove to be too much.

I found myself walking in the general direction of Matthew's house, which figured.

I was so pathetic. But he loved me back, impossibly, so I'd accept my pathetic-ism and move on.

I wasn't really paying attention when a sleek, shiny, new black car pulled to the side of the road near me.

The driver window rolled down, and - before I'd met the Blacks, I would have said - the most breathtakingly beautiful girl was driving.

"Excuse me," she called out to me, her voice silkier than even Renesme's.

I stopped, and tried to prevent myself from openly gawking.

Her face was angelic. Paler than a corpse - paler, even, than Lorraine Black, her perfect, snow-white skin complemented her gorgeous, voluminous blonde hair. Her hair seemed to shimmer, even though she stayed out of the sun. It was shimmering on her own. I wondered what color her eyes were - no doubt, a gorgeous blue - but she wore rather large sunglasses, so I couldn't be certain.

"Ye- yes?" I stammered. This girl was even more perfect than the Black's. Almost too perfect. But her celestial beauty reminded me on Renesme, in an odd, implacable way.

"I'm looking for the Black's home. Can you tell me where to go?"

Her voice was so compelling. I wanted to help her. I walked over to her window.

"Yeah."

Of course she knew the Blacks. That kind of perfection didn't just randomly occur.

I paused. If she was with the Blacks, and she was that perfect, did that mean she was a werewolf, too?

I thought of Jacob. Jacob and this woman couldn't be more different. So that meant that this woman must have been related to Renesme some how. She was undoubtedly a mythical creature, and probably the kind that Matthew would never want me to find out about.

"Are you busy? Would you mind showing me too terribly much? I'll give you a ride back."

She was offering me an opportunity.

Matthew had warned me that his mother's kind was dangerous. But Matthew would never tell me how what kind of creature that side of him was. I knew his reasoning, but my curiosity was getting the better of me. This was an opportunity to learn.

"Sure," I said slowly, "No problem."

"Great!" She said enthusiastically. She nodded towards her passenger side, "It's unlocked."

I made my way around her car, my heart beating faster with each step.

I knew this could be dangerous, but I was doing it anyway. Maybe it was stupid - but if she was with the Blacks, she couldn't have been all bad, right?

I opened the door and paused for a moment. My heart was threatening to pound out of my chest; my instincts were battling each other. Half of me wanted to listen to the beautiful girl and do whatever she wanted, and half was screaming at me that this was a bad idea. But I had to know what Matthew was, now that the opportunity was in front of me.

I sat down.

"They're out of town right now, but I can still show you where they live. They'll be back on Sunday, if you want to wait."

I shut the door.

"Oh, I know they're out of town," she said softly. She hit the lock. I watched it go down and turned to ask her why she'd locked the door.

She simultaneously hit the gas and took off her sunglasses.

We were speeding through town way too fast for me to give any directions.

She turned, and met my stare.

I gasped.

There were dark, purple, bruise-like shadows under her eyes, as if she hadn't slept in weeks.

But that wasn't the oddest thing about her appearance.

My heart stopped, only to double again, as my stomach dropped.

Her eyes. They were red.


	25. The Clearing & Clarissa

"Um, I - " I stammered. She ignored me.

"So," she started, overly-sweet, "Let's talk about Matthew."

"Who are you?"

My heart hammered in my chest. The red in her eyes seemed incredibly ominous and seemed to signify impending, horrific doom.

I swallowed, trying to ignore the fear clogging my throat.

Her eyes moved back to the road.

"My name is Clarissa. And_ you_ are Paige. Paige Turner, which is simply the most_ ridiculous_ name I've_ ever_ heard. Do your parents _hate_ you?"

My breath stopped. Was this for real? I was really had just been kidnapped and was being antagonized by an all-knowing stranger with red eyes? How did she know my name? The situation just seemed so unreal.

"Uh... no. Let me out of this car. Right now," I retorted, my fear temporarily replaced with disbelief.

"Oh, I don't think so, Paige. See, I have a bone to pick with you."

She looked me over critically, as if assessing my appearance. I suppressed a shiver, which surprised me. The air in the car had become as icy cold as her voice had become the moment she'd sped away. The fear, like the cold, began to seep through my skin, trying to penetrate my bones.

"You're not even very pretty," she scoffed.

"Who are you?" I repeated stonily, not wanting to betray any emotion.

"I told you, I'm Clarissa. Matthew_ really_ never mentioned me?"

"No."

She shook her head in mock disappointment.

"Shame."

I debated pulling the lock up and jumping out of the car. We were going seventy now, and were already out of town. The result would be painful, and it was probably a stupid plan.

"You won't make it far. You jump, and you probably won't be able to get up, much less run away. But go for it, if you really want."

She spoke slowly, the ice in her voice now obvious.

I turned to her, trying to suppress the uneasiness in my stomach. Could she hear thoughts, like Lorraine?

"_How do you know me_?" I demanded, losing a little of my impartial attitude.

Her eyes bore into mine and her voice turned even harder.

"I know _everything_ about Matthew; of _course_ I would know about you." She leaned back and took a deep breath, seemingly calming herself down, "Now tell me - I'm curious - is there anything remarkable about you _at all_?"

"_What_ are you?" I demanded, ignoring her question and my now-sweaty palms.

She froze, and her eyes lit up, along with the corner of her mouth. She smiled slowly, smugly.

My stomach dropped as the atmosphere changed again. She was too smug; she was relishing this.

"You don't know? Matthew _didn't tell you_?" she chuckled, "Well, this _is_ an interesting development."

"Didn't tell me_ what_?" I snapped.

"What half of his bloodline is. What I am."

I turned away, watching the dense green forest speed by.

She laughed softly again.

I didn't want to think about what she was talking about. I had no doubt that she was of the dangerous, murderous creatures that Matthew had briefly touched on. I wasn't sure I wanted to know what - they - were. I wondered what she was planning on doing to me. If she was one such murderous being, she was probably going to kill me. But why me? And what connection did she have to Matthew? If she could move as fast as Matthew, why hadn't she killed me already? Why was she wasting time talking to me?

She slowed down quickly then, and I felt myself slide forward in my seat.

She hit the brakes.

"We're here!" she said. Her voice was falsely merry, and its ominous undertone was enough to solidify fear in the pit of my stomach.

We weren't anywhere, just the side of the road by the forest, far from anywhere civilized.

The perfect place for a murder.

"Get out," she commanded.

I looked at her in confusion. She wasn't getting out? She was just going to dump me out at the side of the road?

I got out without hesitation, trying to suppress the relief that wanted to overtake me; I didn't know her plan.

I wiped the sweat off my hands on my jeans, and pulled out my cell phone. I'd have to call someone to come and help me, or find my body. Someone had to know where I was.

I blinked.

My cell phone was no longer in my hand.

I stared at my hand and then the ground in confusion.

I knew I'd just pulled it out, but it had completely disappeared. I hadn't dropped it, apparently.

"I don't think you'll be needing this."

I jumped. Clarissa's voice was behind me. I spun around. Clarissa was standing in the middle of the abandoned road. Her poise was casual, as if she'd been standing there, relaxed, for awhile.

I hadn't even heard her get out of her car.

So she was as _fast_ as Matthew. I licked my lips in nervous anticipation.

Her gaze fell on my phone in her hands. She moved it between her hands, playing with it as if she was bored and had been doing so for awhile.

Her eyes met mine again. She straightened up, and kept my phone in one had.

She took a few steps towards me, outstretching her hand as if to give my phone back.

Then her hand closed around it, slowly.

I heard cracking, and when she had completely closed and reopened her hand, the phone had been reduced into a pile of oddly colored dust.

I felt the blood drain from my face, felt the stone drop in my gut.

"Wha - what do you want from me?" I cleared my throat, trying to hide my fear and speak up.

"Not here," she said. Then, suddenly, she had flung me over her shoulder.

I yelled in shock and fear. She was hard as stone, and colder than ice. Her statuesque arms would have been impossible to escape, even if I hadn't been in the humiliating upside-down position that I found myself in.

And then she was running.

It was as smooth as running with Matthew had been, but this time I watched the ground streak by in a blur, and this time I was much less comfortable.

It lasted only minutes before she dumped me on the ground. We were in a small clearing, deep in the woods.

I felt my throat constricting. If she was going to kill me, no one would find my body way out here. Animals would get to it long before any people would. My body would be eaten, and never found. No one would know what had happened to me.

Maybe they'd think I ran away.

"Try to get away," she commanded me, laughing.

"I know I can't." I whispered.

"Ah! So you have _some_ sense, at least." She laughed again.

"Now tell me everything Matthew told you about himself."

"No." My voice hardened with my determination. If I was to die, I wasn't going to go out crying and begging. I'd go out defiantly.

Her eyes flashed angrily, and her hands held my arm tightly. I shrank from her cold grasp, but knew there was no escape.

"I said," she growled as she twisted my arm, "Tell me everything Matthew told you about himself."

Something in my shoulder popped out of where it was supposed to be.

The pain shot down my arm and side - it felt like my shoulder was on fire. I barely stifled a whimper and worked to keep back the tears. I wasn't going to give her any satisfaction.

"Just tell me," I breathed through my teeth after a moment, "Can't you just answer some of _my_ questions before you kill me?"

"_Kill you_?" She laughed, "Why would I want to kill you? No dear, you're not going to die - well, at least not at my hands. Tonight. What fun would that be?"

"Fun?" I asked incredulously, trying to block out the pain shooting through my body and suppressing the tears that wanted to spill out of my eyes. She twisted my arm more, and I couldn't stifle the little cry that escaped my lips. I fell onto my knees.

"Just tell me, and cooperate, or this is going to be a_ very_ long day for you."

She grabbed my thumb then, and slowly began bending it backwards.

"Okay! I don't know why this is such a big deal -" I started nervously, fear and pain getting the better of me.

"Just tell me."

"He just - he told me about his - werewolf thing."

"What else?"

My eyes met her merciless gaze.

I swallowed.

"He said half of his bloodline - through his mom - was something more dangerous. And he couldn't tell me more, or I'd die."

She scoffed, "That's_ really_ all he told you? And you just took it at that, and accepted it? You're actually a much stupider human than I would have guessed... though you weren't really scoring that many points anyway."

I was silent, wishing myself away from the meadow and wishing the pain away.

She leaned in closer.

"Wanna know what we are?" she whispered, her eyes taunting me.

I glared. I wished I stood a chance of outrunning her, of getting away.

"No?" she asked, "Whyever not?"

I continued to glare up at her.

"Ooh, I bet I know why! You want me to think that it's out of respect for Matthew, and his wishes for your ignorance. But you know what I know? You're scared, aren't you? Scared that whatever your boyfriend is, it will be terrible enough to terrify you, and for you end things with him."

She watched me closely.

"But you know what?" her voice lowered back into a whisper, "That would be _excellent_. I'd _love_ it if you broke Matthew's heart. Because he's what I am. A monster. Haven't you any guesses?"

I made sure my silence was as stony as I could muster.

Her eyes flashed again, and my thumb bone snapped.

I cried out instinctively, tears flooding my eyes. I looked up, trying to keep them in and continuing to block the pain.

"I said _guess_," she snarled. The bone in my index finger snapped, and she started crushing my hand.

"I. Don't. Know." I tried to growl between gasps of air.

"I'll give you a hint," she said, relaxing the pressure on my hand, "I've been one for twelve years as of yesterday. I was twenty years old - still am. I'll be at this peak of perfection for eternity. It's really very cool."

She must have noted the lack of effect her words had on me.

"Fine," she said, leaning in closer again, "I'll give you one more little clue... my diet."

My eyes met hers again.

"Blood," she said, smiling, "It's _blood_. Human blood."

_Vampire._ The word jumped into my head, successfully blocking some of the pain. Vampire.

Vampire. There was no way he could be vampires - they went out in the sun. Vampires were supposed to burn in the sun and sleep in coffins and not be able to cross running water... there was more, but I was having a hard time focusing. None of those myths were true with the Blacks.

"Have you guessed it?" she asked, "The look of fear on your face leads me to the assumption that you did.

Of course this_ Clarissa_ was then an _actual_ vampire, and the Blacks were different. Half-vampires. So maybe the rules were different for them. Clarissa hadn't taken a step into any sunlight that I'd seen.

"Oh, I can guess what's running through your mind right now. '_There's no way, I don't believe it, there must be a misunderstanding'_... Trust me, Paige... You don't want me to prove it."

"Matthew's not like you. He eats regular food, not blood," I muttered.

I was able to think around the pain in my shoulder and in my hand now, but it continued to shoot through my muscles.

She laughed, "Oh yeah, okay. You certainly don't seem to know him as well as you'd like to think. Yeah, he eats disgusting human food -_ likes_ it even - but I promise you that he_ loves_ blood as well."

I swallowed hard.

It was hard to imagine Matthew as a blood-sucking demon. But if it was true - _did_ I know Matthew that well? Had he hidden this side of him to protect me, like he'd said, or had he made it all up so that I wouldn't find out about his vampire habits?

I hated the seed of doubt that was now unshakably in my head.

She smirked.

"Well, I think I have most of what I came for. Need to add some finishing touches though..."

My elbow - on my bad arm - popped forward. Something snapped and I yelled in excruciating pain.

The tears poured out of my eyes; I gave up trying to suppress them.

"Tell Matthew I stopped by," she laughed, "I'm sure he'll love to hear all about me - his first love. _Surely_ he still cares."

I felt my calf break then, and I the top half of my body screamed in pain as I hit the ground.

My toes. All my right-foot toes, being broken one-by-one. I barely felt them breaking next to the rest of my body's agony.

Something in my brain kicked in, and I passed out.

* * *

The first thing I knew was that I was in pain.

A lot of pain.

It wasn't long before I became aware of the icy-cold rain pelting me through the thin tree cover above me.

I realized I was freezing. I couldn't help shivering, and the shivering shifted my muscles and magnified the agony.

I realized that she'd done nothing to my left arm or leg - the pain in I felt in the left half of my body wasn't real, it was just an extension of the other side's. Was this her idea of not killing me? I was miles in the middle of the woods - did she expect me to find rescue somehow? She had probably planned to leave me here to let the forest slowly kill me. Thirst, hunger, an animal... I wouldn't last.

The sky seemed to be pelting me with despair rather than deathly-cold rain.

I tried to ease myself up, using the left half of my body as an anchor. I tried not to scream at the uproar the rest of my body threw at me.

My teeth chattered, and I shuddered involuntarily. I needed to get help; I needed to get dry and warm.

I took a deep breath, and realized that at least one of the ribs on the right side of my body was broken.

I collapsed, and it took a few minutes for me to get control over myself again. I wasn't even going to able to crawl anywhere.

I rolled onto the left half of my body and used my hand and leg to sort of scoot my way along in the direction I was fairly certain the road was in.

It was working! I was moving. It was only a little, but it was something.

Suddenly, I felt a restraint. I couldn't move my hand forward any further.

It took me a minute before I realized that there was a rope tied around my left wrist. Tied tightly.

I could feel one on my left ankle then too, and one around my neck, though they weren't taut yet.

My heart sank into despair.

I was tied up like some sort of rabid animal.

I fell back onto the ground slowly. So I was to die out here after all, beyond a shadow of doubt, now. There was nothing I could do about it. By breaking the bones in my right hand, she had ensured that I wouldn't be able to move my fingers to untie a knot. They were too complicated to untie with my teeth.

I let the rain wash over me and the hope drained out of me. I wished I could pass out again, to stop the pain.

It wasn't long before I began to wish that I would just die then, so that it would be over.

I knew that wishing wasn't going to do much, but I didn't have the strength to even try to find a way to end things.

I lied there for hours. The rain eventually stopped. As did my tears, and I began to think more beyond the pain. My shivers became sporadic. I knew it was pointless, but instinct had me trying to block the feeling of despair.

I closed my eyes and thought of Matthew; even knowing what he was, thinking about him made me feel - not better, but not as broken. If he had been with me, he would have scooped me off to the hospital in a heartbeat. And if he could have talked to me right then, I knew he'd tell me not to give up, and not to give up hope. That I could figure out a way to get out, a way to save myself...

It was a good thing Matthew wasn't here, because there absolutely no chance for my survival.

It was odd; it occurred to me that I didn't care so much about dying as I cared about leaving Matthew. Hours ago, while Clarissa had told me what he was and that I hadn't known him that well - I'd started to believe her. I'd started to doubt. But in my heart, I realized that whatever he had done, his heart was in the right place now. And even if it wasn't... I loved him. And that was all that mattered.

"Paige," I heard. My eyes flew open. My mind was starting to go. No doubt I had reached a point of delirium; I could have sworn I'd heard Matthew's voice. I could only see the ground below me, but the world was sort of foggy.

"Paige, I'm so sorry." Matthew. It sounded like Matthew, his voice broken, almost crying.

"I found her," his voice said. Even in my imagination, Matthew's voice made me feel so much better than I had only moments ago.

A few more tears escaped again. I would have given anything for him to have been here for real, to have an opportunity to say goodbye, and that I was sorry.

"Oh, my God. That _bitch_." It sounded like Lorraine.

"Lorraine." Renesme. What a fabulous dream. My eyes fluttered closed again.

"What did she do to her?"

"Get Carlisle." Jacob. Even Jacob was in my dream.

"He's with -"

"I know. We didn't pick up her scent until we were close and too far for him to hear."

"I'm going," Renesme cut in, "We need him -" Her last word was cut off.

"I could have went," Lorraine said.

"Dad - what do I do?" Matthew whispered, distraught.

"Wait for Carlisle."

"I can't; she's freezing. Look at her shaking."

I didn't think I was shaking.

"Matthew, you don't know how badly she's injured. The lack of blood is encouraging, but, who knows -"

There was silence.

"I'm taking the risk."

Warm, delightfully warm arms scooped me up from the ground. The ropes fell away.

"Ow," I whispered unintentionally.

He let out a tight breath.

"Okay Lorraine. Go tell them we'll be back at the house."

I leaned into his chest, oddly unaware of what was going on. I didn't really care. I just knew that I was cold and he was warm, and he felt - safe.


	26. Bedside

I passed out again.

When I awoke, I was warm and dry, extremely comfortable, my head clear. The pain in my body was nearly gone.

I opened my eyes to see the ceiling of the majestic room I'd stayed in during my last visit to the Blacks' home.

"Paige." It was Matthew. My heart burned.

"Matthew?" I asked. I began to sit up.

"Don't," he commanded, suddenly beside me, gently nudging me back down. I felt myself smiling.

"I'm so glad to see you," I gushed.

His expression became pained.

"I'm so sorry, Paige."

"Sorry for what?" I asked.

"Everything. This is all my fault."

I realized that my right arm was in a brace, my fingers and entire arm immobile. My right leg was in a similar state, but with a cast. I lifted my left arm. Angry red marks encircled my wrist and an IV stuck out of the top of my hand.

"You're drugging me now?" I guessed, "When did you get an IV?"

"It's Carlisle's. My - great-grandfather of sorts. Seriously Paige, I know I can't even begin to apologize enough -"

"It's fine. It could have been worse."

"No, I don't think so, and it isn't fine. Please don't downplay this. I -"

"Actually," I pressed, "It _could have_ been worse. I'm not dead am I?"

"No, thank God - "

"Well, then it could have been worse. And I'm only alive because you found me."

"You wouldn't have been in this situation, had it not been for me!"

"Who knows."

"I do!"

"Matthew - "

"Paige, the least of your worries is the cold you've contracted. You have rope burns on your neck, wrist, and ankle. You had a high fever, a dislocated shoulder and a hyper-extended elbow. Two of your ribs are broken, along with your fibula, five fingers, and five toes. It's my fault; I did it all to you." His voice was hard, his eyes tormented.

I was silent for a moment.

"I knew you could turn into a wolf, but I had no idea you could turn into a bitchy blonde too," I joked half-heartedly.

"Paige," he groaned, "This is _serious_."

"Well, what's blaming yourself going to do? I would have appreciated a warning about the crazy ex. That's all you could have done. And even if you had warned me, you didn't know that she'd come after me. _She's_ the one that did this. Not you."

I wouldn't have gotten in the car if I'd known that there was a vengeful vampire ex-girlfriend out there.

"I should have seen it coming, Paige." He sighed, "She warned me after I - ended things - that she'd make my life miserable, especially if I ever found someone else. I guess since I hadn't seen her since, I'd let my guard down."

I opened my mouth to protest, but he interrupted, "I should have seen it coming. She knows me, knows my family, and how they work. She knew how to play the holes in Alice's visions so that we'd have never seen her coming. She knew that Alice couldn't see me, Lorraine, or my parents. As long as your future was closely entwined with mine - and Alice hadn't ever met you anyway - she'd never be able to see your future. But when you were - in the woods with her - your future wasn't entwined with mine anymore."

"What?" I asked, frozen.

"You -" His voice caught, "You would have died out in the woods, and I would have never seen you again. And that's what Alice foresaw while you were there; you, dead in the woods, tied to a tree, found by animals..."

He cleared his throat and looked away.

"So how did you find me?" I whispered after a moment of silence, taking it all in.

"Alice had the vision. She drew it for us. It was vague; we didn't know where in the woods the image had been. As soon as we saw it, we decided to come after you, so your future disappeared again... and we had no idea if we'd find you dead or alive. I - it was the most terrifying thing I've ever experienced. I don't know if I'll ever be able to leave you alone again."

"Hmm."

His eyebrows furrowed in concern, "I'm sorry. I don't mean... I understand if you never want to see me again, believe me. I can leave you alone - but not completely. I'll always have to make sure you're protected. But you won't ever have to see me again. I just want you to know - "

"Who said I never wanted to see you again?" I interrupted softly.

"Paige, come on. I'm the reason you were just on death's doorstep. It's sick if you want to stay around me now - I won't let you be a victim of abuse."

"That's not your call; you weren't the one abusing me," I cut in sharply.

"I'm refusing to keep you in harm's way. Suddenly that's not my decision?"

"No, it's not. It's mine; I know the danger and it's my life to risk or do with what I please."

"Don't be -"

"How is she?"

I glanced towards the door. A beautiful man stood in the doorway. Pale and blonde, he had the features of an angel. Even his eyes were a peculiar shade of gold. It was remarkable.

"This is Carlisle," Matthew said begrudgingly.

"You're the one that patched me up?" I asked.

He smiled, "I am indeed. You were in pretty rough shape." He walked over to me.

Matthew let out a short breath.

"You're good; I hardly feel anything."

"That's because you're _drugged,_" Matthew said tightly.

"Thank you, Paige. I've been a doctor - awhile."

It suddenly occurred to me that Carlisle was probably a vampire too. An involuntary shiver made its way down my spine as he checked my IV. How had a vampire been my doctor? Was it possible? Clarissa had had such red, evil-looking eyes - they befitted an evil creature. Carlisle's were gold. Did that mean he was different in some way?

"What?" Matthew asked, noting the expression on my face.

"N - nothing," I said quietly.

"Something," he pressed, his eyebrows furrowed in concern. He glanced nervously at Carlisle.

Suddenly and simultaneously a look a panicked concern passed over both of their faces.

"Be right back, Paige. I'm sorry," Matthew told me, slowly backing away from me. He and Carlisle left the room.

I stared at the ceiling, intrigued. What could possibly have had them so concerned?

I tried to listen, to see if I could hear anything going on, but all my ears met with was silence.

Despite my instinctive aversion to the topic, I found my mind wandering back to what had happened in the forest. Clarissa had known about Alice's visions and how they worked. She'd also told me that she hadn't intended to kill me at all, that she wanted me to break up with Matthew and break his heart.

She'd known that when she'd tied me up, Alice would have a vision of me dead, and that they'd come after me, that they'd find me.

She'd planned it all, better even than Matthew had guessed. She could have just killed me - Matthew would have been devastated that he'd brought about my death. But that wouldn't have been enough. She wanted to traumatize me enough to reject Matthew forever - and she wanted Matthew to feel pain over what she'd done to me, to blame himself. And she'd wanted me to inflict even more pain on him myself when I'd tell him I never wanted to see him again.

A double-whammy. Very cruel.

It had all been to get to Matthew, to make sure he couldn't be happy in love. I was just a means to an end.

But I refused to let her win.

My love for Matthew wouldn't be diminished just because she'd managed to scare me and hurt me. The seed of doubt she'd planted in my head had been completely erased when I had been on the verge of death.

So he was a vampire. So his family were vampires. Looking at the big picture - did I care?

So Bella - his grandmother - had been human, and had chosen to become a vampire. Intriguing. If she'd gotten pregnant and maintained a relationship with a full-blown vampire - and had wanted to become one herself - than they couldn't all be that evil, that cruel, could they? Carlisle was a doctor-vampire for crying-out-loud. It seemed a bit ironic and impossible, but my home medical care at his hands was proof that he was an excellent physician.

There was a soft rap on my door.

"Yes?" I asked softly.

"It's me, Lorraine. Can I come in?"

"Of course." It was her house, after all.

She came in, then.

Her hair was up and her cheeks were flushed, something I'd never thought I'd see. She was all the more beautiful for it, and I felt a spark of instinctive jealousy.

She seemed oddly hesitant.

"Are you okay?" she asked.

"Uh - " I started, "Yeah, I mean - "

"I don't mean physically," she cut in sharply, "I know you're not physically okay. And you're probably really freaked out about what happened, which is understandable. I mean about us. Now that you know what we are."

"Wha -" Oh. Yeah. Lorraine could hear thoughts. I guess Matthew had stopped blocking them.

"He wanted to know what you knew," she explained.

"Invasion of privacy much?" I muttered.

"He's sorry."

"No he's not."

The corner of her mouth turned up, "Alright, he's not. He just wanted me to say that."

"Where is he?"

"He's afraid - they all are - that you'll be to frightened to face them. Knowing what they are. I'm the most human, so I was sent in."

"I'm not - I mean, I want answers, but I'm not - I'm not afraid."

That wasn't a total lie.

I had reason to be afraid of vampires, and I was. But still, the reasons I had to_ not_ be afraid of these creatures seemed more important, so I wasn't sure what to feel.

"I can hear you, remember," Lorraine said matter-of-factly.

She looked towards the door, rolling her eyes at some unheard-by-me comment.

A soft rap sounded on the door.

"Paige?" A beautiful voice asked.

"Yes?"

A beautiful woman to match the voice appeared inside the door. She looked about my age. Pale as the rest, she had rich brown hair and strikingly golden eyes. She smiled shyly.

"I'm Bella," she said softly.

"Hi," I answered politely.

Bella. Renesme's mother. How odd - she was Matthew's grandmother, yet she was forever frozen at twenty years old.

She was the one who had fallen in love with a vampire, and become one herself.

"I wanted to talk to you," Bella continued. Her eyes flickered, and Lorraine sighed.

"See ya," she said dramatically, and left.

Bella came a little closer, taking care not to come too close.

"So," she said after a minute, "I've been in your shoes."

"I know," I said, "You fell in love - with a vampire. How did that happen?"

"Probably similarly to the way you fell in love with a werewolf-vampire-human mix of a young man."

We fell silent, gauging each other's reactions to each other.

"Actually, I was even more in your shoes than you know. There was even a man who was determined to play a game with Edward and torture me to get to him. While I was human."

I took that in.

"Well, it seems as though history is trying to repeat it self."

"So it would seem."

"Do you regret it?" I asked after another moment of silence.

"What?" she asked.

"Becoming... you know. A vampire. Being stuck like that forever."

"No," she answered confidently, "I get to be with the man I love forever. I got to raise a child, same as many humans, and got to experience the shift in relationships between children and their parents as they age. And I get to keep my daughter forever, get to see her happy, married, and get to watch my grandchildren grow up. Get to see them fall in love. I wouldn't trade that. I don't regret my decision at all."

I took a deep breath. It was food for thought. I loved Matthew - but I wasn't sure I wanted to spend all eternity with him if to id I needed to kill people and drink blood, to never be able to age or have children, or experience anything _different_. I wasn't sure if I would ever have been able to make the decision that Bella had made. But if I was in love with a vampire, what choices would I really have, in the future? Something would have to happen, eventually.

"I admire that. Your certainty," I told her.

She smiled softly, "I guess I'm different like that. I make a decision; I pursue it with more gusto than probably healthy."

"So..." I started.

"Yes?"

"Matthew left - what, because he thought I'd be scared of him or something? Please, can you get him for me?"

She smiled, "Yes."

Without another word, she turned and left.

She hadn't shut the door completely when Matthew opened it, but didn't come much further towards me.

I hated being so helpless _so much. _

"Matthew," I said, annoyed, "Please come here."

He came closer- but only about halfway to my bedside.

"Closer," I continued, slightly more irritated.

He closed the rest of the distance, and his hand twitched, like he wanted to touch me, but was hesitant.

"Matthew, I'm not scared of you," I told him defiantly.

"You should be," he said, his voice hard and his eyes dark, "I want to_ kill_ you. I want to _drain_ _your body of blood_. How can that _not_ scare you, honestly?"

I swallowed. It did scare me. But this dangerous element was just one more thing inexplicably compelling me to him.

"Fine," I admitted, "I admit that that part scares me."

His eyes flashed in dark satisfaction.

"But," I continued, starting at him until he met my own intense stare, "My trust in you outweighs any fear a thousand times over."

His voice turned angry, "It shouldn't. I don't think you realize just how hard it is not to kill you - even right now. Right now, every muscle in my body, every instinct, is compelling me to you. My werewolf instincts tell me I need you. My vampire instincts tell me I need you - and I need you now, your blood. The smell - no other human's blood smells to me like yours does. No other human's blood has a tenth of the same draw to it. It makes my throat _burn_ with thirst for your blood. Both instincts tell me to get as close to you as possible, and it wouldn't take much for them to blend together and result in my killing you. Can I make this any clearer?"

I was silent for a moment, my heart and breathing picking up.

I knew his feelings and desires had been strong and tempting, but I had no idea that they were this strong, that my presence and his resistance was causing him actual physical pain.

"What's keeping you from doing it, then?" I whispered, not breaking our gaze.

"My human instincts, I suppose."

"And what do they say?"

He was silent for a moment, and his expression changed back to pain.

"That I love you," he whispered.

I closed my eyes, savoring the words.

"Good," I answered, "Because I love you too." I opened my eyes and stared back into his sad ones, "Right now, I don't know what's going to happen in the future. And I don't care that I'm hurt. I don't care about Clarissa. I don't really care about the future at all right now. All I care about is you and me, right here, right now. And the fact that we love each other. Please, don't spoil it."

His hand cupped the side of my head.

"I couldn't live with myself," he whispered, his voice catching, "If anything ever happened to you. And if I couldn't protect you - or, worse, if I - if I did it myself - I just -"

"Shh," I ordered, "What's the use in speculating what could happen? Let's just live in the moment. Please."

He kissed the top of my forehead softly, tenderly, and rested his forehead against my own.

"I'm sorry," he whispered again, "For what happened."

"I forgive you," I answered, knowing that this was what he needed to hear. I placed my left hand over his and felt my eyes drift shut again, relishing the moment.

My heart burned with love for him.

Maybe I really wouldn't be able to live at all without him.

Maybe we really were soul mates.

Maybe we _were_ destined for forever.

At that moment, laying there, his overly-warm hand under my own, his head pressed close to mine - it felt like it.


	27. Note from the Author!

Hey, Jade here.

I'd like to apologize for not updating my stories - in some cases - for years. I really appreciate all the support that you've given me on this website! The reason I haven't updated in ages is because I've been working on my own stories (for fun; they're not based off of any other story premise) and busy traveling. I actually started a travel blog, so if you're interested in reading SOMETHING by me - even if it's my boring non-fiction, feel free to check it out and give me suggestions! I love feedback!

travelwithjade

Thanks so much!

Love,

Jade


End file.
